The Impossibility
by twinkle.exe
Summary: The Clans are left dying, the last of their young blood gone, save for two siblings —not to each other— left behind. One struggles to lead his Clan without his ancestors' blessing as the other fights whirlwinds of feelings over being left in the dust. The everlasting peace has fallen to shreds, and the only way out is to take the chance on an impossibility. SIDE STORY TO THE TRIALS
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Is Hawkstar any better?"

"No better, but no worse, either."

Bearclaw dipped his head, a gesture of both thanks and resignation, as Mossfur turned her blue eyes from him and went back to her medicine cat duties, dark gray pelt rippling with tensed muscles. He exited her den, feeling worry twisting his stomach into knots.

It seemed that all he'd been doing ever since becoming deputy was worrying.

Worrying over Hawkstar, who had fallen ill just one night ago, as they had returned from the Gathering. Worrying over Perchstar, who had threatened WindClan with war upon discovering her youngest cats missing. Worrying over Maplepool, for so many more reasons than anyone else would expect.

Regardless of how much he detested the idea of walking to his death, he would give anything to be on his way to the Moon Tunnels with her, where he could _do_ something about his worries besides just worrying. He couldn't help Hawkstar; he couldn't stop Perchstar from starting a war. He could try and be a good leader in the dark tabby's place, try to protect his Clan best as he could, but those were abstract concepts compared to just looking out for his sister and being by her side.

If Bearclaw was being perfectly honest, he'd been so, so tempted to run away with Maplepool yesterday at the Gathering. _Let me go, too!_ The words had had lingered on his tongue, very tantalizingly possible.

But he had a duty to WindClan.

He was no traitor.

Once again, the striped tom found himself wondering if keeping Darkstar's secret was the right thing to do. He'd seen ShadowClan's leader with his own two eyes, gathering up all the cats and taking them away. Surely, the black cat's Clan was stronger than his own right now, and could deal with an attack from RiverClan.

 _Darkstar looked me in the eye and trusted me. Am I going to betray him? Would it be a betrayal to WindClan, to_ not _betray him? What do I do?_

He had a great amount of respect for the leader, but that shouldn't been anything, not when the stakes were so high.

RiverClan radiated power. Early in the morning, when WindClan had just started to sleep after the Gathering, a bristling, fishy-smelling patrol of cats had been bold enough to enter their camp, bearing a message from their leader. Their youngest cats, Grassfur and Cloudtuft, were missing; ThunderClan had reported to them the disappearance of their own chosen cat, Stonefall.

Bearclaw's stomach churned.

 _I need fresh air._

 _What if we're attacked while I'm gone?_

Not that his prescence would make much difference. He was young, strong, but still only one cat; Hawkstar was on his last life and Bearclaw was pretty sure he'd never get his own nine, given the situation with the Moon Tunnels. Normally, after receiving the blessing of StarClan, any warrior named deputy would gain nine lives the moment they have leader lost his or her last, automatically, as if by magic. But, of course, Bearclaw had never been to the tunnels, and he didn't know how it would work in such a case.

 _I went off on my own all the time before I was a warrior. A deputy. WindClan is weakened, but not that weak..._

The brown cat was making to tell Finchmask he'd be away when a small, sandy-colored blur skidded up to him.

"Bearclaw-ShadowClan-leader-wants-to-see-you," panted the little apprentice. _Mallowpaw_.

He had obviously run as quickly as he could, which was quite a considerable speed for a seven-moon-old.

"Where?" Bearclaw asked immediately, heart beginning to pound. A million questions raced like frenzied hares across his mind, but he couldn't find one to focus on, and most of them could be answered later.

"Left him at the border, told him to wait there!" The beige cat's chest heaved and he tossed himself melodramatically on the cool moorland, his quest complete. Bearclaw would have liked to talk to him, but that could wait, and Darkstar couldn't. He spared the apprentice a "good job, Malllow" and dashed off towards the ShadowClan border.

As he got closer to the border, he considered slowing down, not wanting to show any weakness. By the time he could see the black figure of a cat outlined against the pine trees, he had changed his gait to a walk with a fake-it-til-you-make-it kind of confidence that he'd been using a little too often recently.

 _Act well. You represent all of WindClan._

"Good to see you again, Bearclaw."

Bearclaw felt a shiver ripple down his pelt, not from Darkstar's friendly greeting, but from the realization that everyone knew his name, including the ShadowClan leader. It should have been fairly obvious, but the thought had never actually crossed the tom's mind until now, and it alarmed him.

 _Cats know me._

"Greetings, Darkstar," he said, brushing off the idea the way he brushed off all of the other responsibilities regarding himself. It could be postponed for when he actually had the time to focus on his own wellbeing, which might very well be never at this point. "What business do you have with WindClan?" The formal words felt stiff and foregin coming out of his mouth; it was very much not-Bearclaw, and hopefully very much what a future leader should be like.

"I fear I've placed you in a difficult situation— and WindClan in jeopardy," the black cat said briskly, his gray eyes hardening with a serious light. "I'd like to offer an apology, as well as a thank you. I believe you understood, last night, that the situation required speed and relied on cooperation."

Bearclaw twitched his ears. _I'm not sure how cooperative I'm feeling. If you get that WindClan is in danger because of me, wouldn't it be reasonable of me to out you to RiverClan?_ "Is that all?" _Why bring me out here for that?_

"All the Clans have heard of Perchstar's threat," Darkstar said. "ShadowClan offers WindClan its alliance and full strength in case of an attack. It's the least we can do for you."

Slightly taken aback, Bearclaw managed to say, "No, that's plenty. Thank you." Then he wondered if he had accepted too quickly and made WindClan look weak because he hadn't put up a fight about it.

He hated this, having to second-guess everything he did, having to wear a face that wasn't him. He missed his freedom.

"My best wishes to Hawkstar and all of you," meowed ShadowClan's leader, turning to leave."

"Wait—" Bearclaw started, allowing himself a brief moment of just-for-me. "Are they safe? On their way?"

"As far as I know," the black cat responded, knowing exactly who 'they' were. "I sent them north. They disguised their scents, but I assure you they were safe the entire time they were in ShadowClan's land."

Bearclaw thanked Darkstar again, feeling only slightly better.

"And Bearclaw?"

His paws had been shifting back to WindClan's camp, but he paused with a flick of his ears to show that he was listening.

"If you intend to to tell RiverClan who was really behind the disappearances, I can't blame you. We all seek to protect our cats."

Silence. He heard the quietest of shuffling as the other cat slipped back into the shadows of his forest. Bearclaw blinked a few times and turned around, starting his trek back home.

 _I don't think I will tell them._

RiverClan, no matter how strong they were compared to WindClan, would not be able to take on two Clans. He doubted ThunderClan would ally with the angry Perchstar; no one wanted to start a whole, four-Clan war in the middle of leaf-bare when they had too many senior cats and no apprentices at all.

 _Well, there's Mallowpaw._

He was fairly sure that Mallowpaw was the only apprentice in all four Clans, but it was possible that the others were hiding their own, especially now. Last night marked the first Gathering where not all the come-of-age cats had gone to the Moon Tunnels. It was a downward slope; soon, he suspected, no cats would go at all. The backlash from RiverClan, however, meant that the other Clans would be secretive about breaking tradition if they chose to do so.

New-leaf would come soon; with it, maybe kits, if parents wouldn't fear losing their children anymore.

What in the world was he going to do with Mallowpaw?

The apprentice was so enthusiastic, so ready and starry-eyed over the idea of going to the Moon Tunnels, so optimistic in his inexperience. All young cats went through that stage, Bearclaw suspected; he certainly had.

Had Maplepool?

He pushed the thought of his sister out of his mind.

She was gone.

Mallowpaw was free.

Mallowkit, just around one and a half moons, had come to WindClan when Bearpaw, seven-moon-old Bearpaw, was at camp and Maplepaw was away. Bearpaw had nearabout torn up the entire camp when he saw the little sand-colored bundle in the nursery. A warrior, out of the many who had no idea what the scrap was going on about, had kindly redirected him to Hawkstar's den, where his efforts —whatever they were— might be more successful.

 _"You've_ got _to hide Mallowkit, Hawkstar, you've just got to!"_

 _The dark tabby regarded the frenetic apprentice apathetically. It had been four seasons since his daughter, Hazelpaw, had gone to the Moon Tunnels and never returned; two seasons since his mate had died by the jaws of a fox. His grief consumed him, and he barely knew who it was that was in front of him and spouting terrified words._

 _"And why should I?" he asked at last._

 _"The kit looks just like_ him _! Once his eyes start changing from blue, they'll turn amber, I swear they will, and he'll be just the splitting image of his father. Maplepaw won't be able to— she can't take it. I don't think she can take it." He was panicky, frustrated, fearful._

 _"She is rebellious, yes, but not insane, Bearpaw. What do appearances have to do with anything?"_

 _But Bearpaw choked on the words he tried to speak and drowned under the millions and billions of thoughts about his sister that he tried to get in order. She was so fragile, and only he could see..._

 _"Please, just, oh, I'll take care of him! I promise he'll live a full life. It's only about five more moons until we go to the tunnels and then he'll be just normal; he'd be a kit this whole time, anyway, it's not that bad."_

 _Hawkstar seemed to consider._

 _"Very well. I'll admit I don't want to deal with Sandstripe's messes, now or ever. WindClan's deputy is eager to serve, at least, a little too much at times."_

 _Bearpaw hid a frown. "Eager to serve" was not exactly how he would describe Sandstripe, but he pushed that detail aside in his hope. "So...?"_

 _"So I'll tell the Clan to keep Maplepaw away from the nursery and not to talk about the kit to her, or if she's around, if you put up with the kit. He doesn't have any family save for Sandstripe himself, and he'll be busy with deputy work... the responsibility is on you now."_

 _"Yes, sir! Thank you."_

Hawkstar had been true to his word; Bearclaw hoped he was to his. Looking back on it, he wondered why the leader had agreed, why the Clan had listened, all on the words of one apprentice. To be fair, it hadn't been hard, since it wasn't like Maplepaw ever went into the nursery by choice. The more difficult part was making sure all the questioning but compliant warriors didn't accidentally slip up when she was nearby, and making sure that Mallowkit, who grew more energetic each day, didn't get seen by her.

Maplepool had wandered a lot, too, as an 'paw.

Still, it was surprisingly easy to do Mallowpaw's apprentice ceremony last moon, during which she had been sent off to gather herbs. He still had to sleep in the nursery, but now he could be in the open clearing with the rest of them, under the stars.

 _I need to talk to him,_ the tom thought, picking up his pace. _I hope I've been there for him enough these moons. Things can only get better._

He sudddenly felt very alone. He had no one to share his trials and tribulations with, no one to listen, no one to stand by him. Even when Maplepool had been with him, he'd kept most things to himself in favor of focusing on her. He carried burdens on his shoulders, had been doing it for as long as he could remember; he held more secrets than he cared to keep that no one else in WindClan could know; he was completely and utterly alone, now more than ever.

He wondered if the other cats of his age felt this way. RiverClan had brothers, who probably had a perfectly normal relationship; he couldn't imagine the little ShadowClan cat's life, though, growing up with not a single peer. ThunderClan had siblings, but one was gone and the other remained, and he wondered how she was faring. She wasn't deputy, nor did she have a sick leader...

Bearclaw reached camp around sunhigh, crossing paths with a patrol that had left. They exchanged brief, polite words.

"Hey, Bearclaw!" Breezewing, leader of the patrol, greeted him with a tilt of her white head. The other cats —older warriors, Snowleap and Haretail— murmured their own hellos, with friendly tail twitches.

"Hey! I was just at the ShadowClan border, so no need to go there; straight onto ThunderClan works fine." It might save some much-needed energy, especially in this cold weather.

"Got it, thanks."

He waved them off and entered camp. A quick scan of the area showed him the cat he was looking for, sitting idly and grooming himself.

"Mallowpaw?"

When the little cat looked up, he looked completely like Sandstripe and completely not at all at the same time. They had the same pale grayish-brown shade of fur, the same darker striped markings down to the faint lines on their cheeks, the same amber eyes that reflected Bearclaw's own.

But Mallowpaw was _Mallowpaw_ , kitten-fluff-around-the-face Mallowpaw, bighearted, goofy-smiling gentle-at-the-edges Mallowpaw, and that in itself made him look worlds different from WindClan's late deputy.

"Bearclaw!" Now Mallowpaw bounced to his feet and ran to him, tail swishing and eyes bright. "What'd the Darkstar want? Are we going to fight ShadowClan up too?" He shot the questions rapid-fire at Bearclaw, who took a moment to decipher them. When the apprentice grew excited, he tended to mix up his words; _the Darkstar_ was probably a mash-up of _the leader_ and _Darkstar_ , while _fight ShadowClan up_ could be _fight ShadowClan_ and _beat them up_. It was as if he intended on saying one thing and edited it after it was actually out of his mouth, with no clarification.

"We are _not_ going to beat ShadowClan up," Bearclaw informed him sternly. "Darkstar is a respectable cat. He's offered his help should RiverClan attack."

Mallowpaw wrinkled his nose, pausing in his excited movements. "Help? Pfff, we don't need any help!" He was sparking wih excitement from head to toe. Bearclaw sighed inwardly, wondering how to point out to him that they probably very much needed help.

"We probably do," he said straight out, "and we'll appreciate it regardless because ShadowClan is willing to risk their lives for us."

"All right, Bearclaw." Then he was moving again, sinking his claws into a stray blade of moor-grass and shredding it as if imagining it was an enemy cat.

"Leave all that stuff to me and Hawkstar, anyway." _If Hawkstar ever gets well enough to deal with it._ "I just wanted to talk to you about... stuff."

"Ooh, I like stuff," Mallowpaw supplied gleefully. "Stuff is better'n no stuff!"

Bearclaw squashed a snort at the apprentice's logic. "What do you want to do when you come of age, Mallowpaw?"

"Go to the Moon Tunnels, of course, what else is there—" the pale cat paused, blinked rapidly, apparently realized there was a "what else" standing right in front of him, and changed the course of his sentence to "—I mean, I guess I could stay here, but I wanna go to the tunnels so I can be the first cat to make it back!" He puffed out his chest.

"The journey is for at least eight cats," Bearclaw pointed out dryly. "Last I noticed, you were one."

"The first to make it back _all alone!_ Because I bet Maplepool will come back anyway, right?"

Oh, there it was— the topic of Maplepool. Somehow, Mallowpaw had put Bearclaw's sister on quite a pedestal; he'd never been around her, so he'd never seen a single one of her flaws. Or positive traits, for that matter, but he seemed to have come to his own conclusions about them.

"I hope so," Bearclaw hedged. _Do I truly think she could make it? No. Do I hope? Oh, how I hope._

Mallowpaw stilled suddenly, alarm sparking in his amber gaze. "What happens when she returns?"

This was an issue Bearclaw had spent too little time thinking about, since the probability was admittedly low based on the last six seasons. _Hi, Maplepool, welcome back! Here's an apprentice whose existence I've been hiding from you for literally the whole time._ It sounded worse than it really was, or maybe it was actually bad and he hadn't realized it until now. _I definitely can't hide him, though. I can't do that to Mallowpaw, not even for my littermate..._

 _If she survives the Moon Tunnels without breaking down, when I'm not there, maybe she really would be well enough to see past appearances and meet Mallowpaw._

 _I'd take responsibility for it; it's all me, after all._

"Well, introductions would happen," he meowed, dodging the question.

"I thought—" His eyes were round now, wide and innocent. "Does Maplepool hate me?"

 _I mean, if she doesn't know you exist, I don't think it's possible for her to hate you._

"No," Bearclaw said firmly. "Maplepool's only hated one cat her whole life, and you aren't him."

"Then why wasn't I allowed to see her?" Mallowpaw mewed, a little plantively.

 _I'm so sorry._ The brown tom felt a little piece of his heart splintering, breaking for the apprentice who only now got to be liberated from the chains that Bearclaw had put on him himself. _I did it for Maplepool... it was a good decision, in terms of her, but was it really worth it?_

"It's very long and complicated. I'll tell you when you get to twelve moons, okay?"

"Aw, but that's so far awaaaay!" Mallowpaw wobbled dramatically, sitting back down with a _thud_ and a sigh, wearing a comically sulky look on his face. At least the conversation had been steered off of Maplepool.

"You're over halfway there. Keep at it, buddy."

At this, the grin returned to the apprentice's face, swift as a greenleaf breeze. "Sure thing, _deputy!_ Anything to do today?"

"Maybe go ask some other warrior," Bearclaw suggested. "I'm not your only mentor, you know. The whole reason the Clans got rid of the mentor-apprentice system was so that a broader range of skills from all the warriors, increasing their chances of surviving the journey to the tunnels."

"Oh, all right!"

Cheerfully, Mallowpaw bounced off, in search of someone else to pester.

Once left alone, Bearclaw found his thoughts spinning back into the same old spiderweb of worries. Maplepool— war— dying WindClan— dying Hawkstar— being deputy— Maplepool—

"Bearclaw!"

Mossfur's call was fraught, had never sounded as distressed as it did now, and he found himself kicking up sand in his hurry to make it to the medicine cat den. Dread pooled in his stomach, black and spreading, strangling him from the inside out. He halted at the edge, afraid of what he might find inside.

The gray she-cat met him there, meeting his gaze with her own.

"Bearclaw, come inside."

"Why?" he choked out, and it was a pointless question, because he already knew the answer. WindClan's medicine cat closed her blue eyes and tilted her head towards the sky, as if searching for an omen. Without opening them, without looking at him, she whispered the words he already knew, already felt in his bones the moment she'd cried his name.

"Hawkstar is leaving us."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Go remark the WindClan border. Come back with news if there is any; drama is stirring over there, especially between them and RiverClan."

Dawnheart watched icily as Thrushfeather bid their patrol good-bye with a flick of his ears. He did not look at her, only turned and padded away to examine the ever-dwindling fresh-kill pile. When she couldn't see the gray specks on his chest, he looked just like Stonefall, only older and stronger.

 _Fitting that the two traitors look just alike,_ the golden tabby thought in a flash, then pushed the idea out of her head as quicker than it had come. She didn't know where all these horrible thoughts came from— somewhere in her heart? The bitterest parts of her? But they had been plagueing her ever since the day of her warrior ceremony, spoiling the day and souring all those that followed. They were inherently wrong in every which way, and she was glad ThunderClan didn't have a gift that let them read minds. It wasn't _her_.

She breathed to calm herself as she followed the rest of the patrol out of camp. Owlclaw led it, flanked by cream-colored Deerfoot and dark gray Ashtail. Dawnheart herself trailed behind them a few pawsteps away, lost in her own thoughts.

 _Stonefall is not a traitor. Thrushfeather is not a traitor. They are good cats— they are, they are, my brother deserves to go to the tunnel and my father deserves to be deputy, I just wasn't_ good _enough—_ but Dawnheart was _never_ not good enough, and suddenly being tossed aside like an old moss nest stung hard.

She could love Stonefall. He was her littermate, after all, and she still cursed herself for being such a terrible cat. She was horrible at apologizing, especially when there was that little bit of _I'm right_ still pacing inside her. The awkward last moments she'd spent with him, the two days of cold silence preceding that, it all curled uncomfortably in her stomach and lingered like a rotten weed. He had been chosen to go on the journey! She should be happy for him, not jealous. But she had been told by everyone her whole life how well she'd do, how she'd surely survive the trip, and now the chance had been snatched away from her. A fire had been alighted within her from the first day of her apprenticeship, and it had been burning with power until it had been put out with a splash of freezing water, abruptly and painfully.

It was a cruelty.

And it was Thrushfeather who had done this, Thrushfeather who had assured her she was a prodigy along with everyone else, Thrushfeather who had decided that she should be the one to stay behind. She should forgive him; she _knew_ she should, and knowing that gnawed at her bones and clawed her apart from the inside out. Somehow, she just couldn't.

Every day was a struggle for Dawnheart, when Dawnpaw had never struggled a day. It was rather poetic.

"Do you think WindClan is behind all of this?"

Deerfoot was speaking, addressing no one in particular, her pale ears twitching.

Owlclaw growled. "Why would they? If anything, it would be RiverClan, stealing all the cats and making them go."

"But it was them who came to us about their own disappearances! Even if that was the case, they would have taken —tried to take— Dawnheart and Bearclaw as well," Deerfoot argued, casting a brief glance at the said tabby. "And nothing of interest happened with you, isn't that right?" she asked, addressing Dawnheart, who shook her head.

"Nothing at all." The lie slipped easily from her muzzle. "I don't know a thing about the disappearances..."

That was a little on the nose, but it wasn't as if anyone suspected her. She _did,_ in fact, know everything: it was ShadowClan who was behind this— their leader, Darkstar, specifically. But she kept the secret because it didn't affect ThunderClan, and it was what Stonefall wanted. He'd chosne to go with the other cat himself. To betray ShadowClan was to betray her own brother as well, and _she_ was no traitor.

 _What difference would it make, anyway? They're all long gone._

"Maybe they teamed up together and left," Ashtail suggested tentatively. "It would be impossible for one Clan to force the others' cats into leaving against their will."

" _Stonefall?_ Willingly leaving us behind our backs?" Owlclaw scoffed.

 _Oh, he did._ Dawnheart found it vaguely amusing that no one suspected ShadowClan. It seemed to be their style, slipping unnoticed into the shadows; Darkstar's trick at the Gathering had not gone over her head. In any normal situation, the fiercely traditional Perchstar would have refused to let Flamepaw go on the journey before coming of age, but Darkstar had slipped in the request when she had been preoccupied with an even worse form of sacrilege. She was impressed, but it only made her more distrusting of the charming leader.

The thought of Flamepaw, who got to go early when she didn't get to go at all, gave Dawnheart a twinge of envy.

Most cats didn't think she ever got jealous. After all, she was the best; what was there to want?

But, apparently, Stonefall was better in some way.

She battled the feeling of resentment as it tried to overtake her.

"Then everyone else teamed up and stole him," Ashtail said stubbornly, her normally gentle voice taking a sharp edge. "It makes more sense than a Clan managing to get a bunch of cats to go somewhere."

"Maybe they didn't go anywhere," grumbled Owlclaw, striped gray-and-brown tail lashing. "Maybe RiverClan killed them all out of spite."

Dawnheart plastered a worried look on her face, hoping it was enough so that no one would ask her why she wasn't anxious about this particular idea. She _was_ worried about him, just of course not for that reason, and not nearly as much as she should be in general. _I'm sure our talented, so-good-Thrushfeather-chose-him cat will handle things just fine on his own._

No one was looking at her, in any case, as she battled her bitter thoughts. Deerfoot had made a reproachful noise in response to Owlclaw's theory and Ashtail was asking him what was up with his obsession over RiverClan as they reached the WindClan border.

"Let's split up and mark—" Owlclaw began, but Dawnheart found herself interrupting him.

"Wait. Cats in the distance."

She narrowed her green eyes against the bright sun, casting her gaze across the moor. Three shapes were approaching the border from WindClan territory. She could hardly see the difference between the two white cats, but the third was clearly separate: brown-gray, the color of rabbits.

"Good job," meowed Owlclaw cautiously— she suspected it was more out of habit than anything. She and Stonefall had been the Clan's only apprentices for a long time; there had been others, born almost half a year earlier, but they were long gone.

"Is that Breezewing?" Ashtail reached out until her gray muzzle had probably crossed over into WindClan's land, blue eyes sparking with delight.

"And her older sister Snowleap," Deerfoot added. "Breezewing talked about her plenty on our journey, remember?" She nudged Ashtail. Everyone's spirits seemed lighter upon recalling what must have been fond memories. Though it was related to the Moon Tunnels, for once, Dawnheart felt no envy. What was the point of making friends outside of your own Clan? The groups were a partnership, pure mutualism, nothing more.

"That's Haretail, too." Owlclaw's observation was more cautious; the brown-and-gray tom was a senior warrior, and unfamiliar with the WindClan patrol, or so it seemed.

One of the white shapes, once it was so close Dawnheart could see its blue eyes and pale gray spots, broke out into a run towards the ThunderClan cats. She was _fast_ , startlingly so, and the golden tabby found herself taking a step back. _Show-off_ flashed through her mind before she pushed the word away.

What was _wrong_ with her?

"Ashtail! Deerfoot!" The pale, long-limbed moor-cat reached out to touch her forest friends' muzzles with her own. Dawnheart watched, uncomprehending, a little awkward— both states she greatly disliked, as she was never _uncomprehending_ of a concept or, StarClan forbid, _awkward._ Honestly! That was Stonefall's job.

"How are things in WindClan?" Deerfoot questioned. Dawnheart initially thought the cream she-cat was just sneakily fulfilling Thrushfeather's request for news, but there was nothing save for sincerity in the warrior's voice and movements.

"Hawkstar is ill," Breezewing reported as her Clanmates came to stand beside her. Ashtail's eyes rounded in sympathy; Deerfoot uttered a little "Oh no!" Owlclaw tilted his head, listening but not contributing.

 _And they're all okay with sharing that kind of information?_ To be fair, WindClan had already given a massive show of weakness last night at the Gathering. They couldn't sink any lower than making a just-of-age cat _deputy_. If going to the Moon Tunnels would turn her into a soppy, secret-sharing cat, Dawnheart was almost glad she wasn't allowed to go.

"And RiverClan?" asked Ashtail. "A group of them were all abuzz and stirring up our camp in the early hours of the morning."

Haretail's brown eyes were stormy as he replied. "RiverClan has threatened war."

Mews of concern erupted from the ThunderClan side of the border. It was Owlclaw, as leader of the patrol, who interjected and handled things diplomatically— _formally_ , Dawnheart thought with approval, _detached, as we should be._

"I'm sorry to hear of WindClan's troubles. Spottedstar will be informed." He worded it so that it was not a threat, but a well-meaning, possibly empty promise: _our leader might let us help._ Personally, Dawnheart believed it would be foolish of Spottedstar to get involved in a war that didn't concern them.

"At times like this, we should work together, not tear each other apart," Ashtail murmured quietly. "We're all missing cats— you and ShadowClan, too, I presume."

Breezewing dipped her head. "Maplepool is gone. I don't know about... was it Flamepaw? It's a little suspicious; RiverClan checked with _you_ for missing cats, but not ShadowClan."

 _Oh, this is a smart one._ Dawnheart eyed the white cat with grudging respect. She hadn't quite remembered all the names of the coming-of-age cats, but she'd noticed the oddness of ShadowClan.

Now it was the turn of Snowleap, who hadn't yet contributed, to speak. The older cat was pure white, without the pale spots of her sibling, though she shared the same shade of worried blue eyes. "Either way, I agree with Ashtail, but it seems Perchstar doesn't see it that way. She's always been... short-tempered. More prone to working against others if it makes her feel better."

"As much as I'd love to gossip over the morals of RiverClan's leader, we both have work to do," Haretail meowed with a slightly hard stare at the ThunderClan cats. _At least someone around here has boundaries,_ Dawnheart thought mildly.

"Oh, yes." Deerfoot looked a little sadly at Breezewing; the three same-aged she-cats exchanged their good-byes as Owlclaw began divvying out sections of the WindClan border to the rest of the patrol.

Dawnheart couldn't help but imagine what adventures Stonefall must be having at this very moment. She registered the orders that Owlclaw gave to her and readied herself to go through the motions as she always did, but her mind had wandered and it was with her brother, padding across imagined lands and facing challenges like fantasies.

 _If only..._

...

The patrol returned to camp uneventfully, when the sun had fallen just a little past its peak. For a leaf-bare day, it was quite pleasant and warm. ThunderClan was faring well, in terms of prey as well as weather. Dawnheart had caught a slightly scrawny squirrel on her way back, Owlclaw and Ashtail a plumper mouse each; Deerfoot had not been as lucky, but the goods reaped were more than enough for what was supposed to be a border patrol.

"I was going to scold you for taking so long, but you're carrying perfect excuses in your jaws," Thrushfeather meowed upon their return, his green eyes sparking with surprise upon seeing their catches. "I think we may have enough prey to start burying some of it, to save it in case of famine."

He raised his voice to order off a hunting patrol. _Probably in case there's still prey running about in what might be the last day of warm weather,_ Dawnheart thought.

The commotion had caught the attention of more than a few cats, including their leader, and they all gathered around near the fresh-kill pile as the patrol deposited their catches.

"Good job." Spottedstar's congratulations sounded from above as she made her way down from her spot on the Highrock. The golden-spotted she-cat was amiable as she mingled with her cats. "We'll work together to store the excess food. Make sure to keep enough prey for the whole Clan to be fed tomorrow; I think three or four squirrels would be satisfactory."

Though it was warm today, the soil would still definitely be cold enough to store prey. Burying food was a ThunderClan tradition, especially in leaf-bare when the earth was cooler, and Dawnheart knew very well how it worked. The food would be stored by the medicine den, in a spot that received the most shade and was easily accessible. She thought the nursery might work better; they didn't tend to do that in case mischievous kits got their paws into the underground stores, but there weren't any kits. For the other cats, though, it seemed old habits died hard. _Old habits, liiiiike... sending_ all _of-age cats to the tunnels?_

Thrushfeather cleared out the only three squirrels from the pile and pushed the remaining prey towards the gathered cats. Everyone, save for Owlclaw beginning his patrol report to the deputy, grabbed a piece of prey —Dawnheart took a chaffinch— and set to work.

They had plenty of time, and dirt tended to cling to bird feathers, so she decided to pluck the bird before burying it. It was a comforting, repetitive motion, tearing out feathers with her teeth and collecting them into a nice, soft pile of bedding. Once the bird was very much unfeathered, she trotted over to the medicine den to toss it into the hole that some other warriors had dug.

In this way, Dawnheart fell into a familiar rhythm: get prey, pluck if it was a bird, bury. There were about four warriors aside from her working at the task, and the fresh-kill pile was quickly diminished, but near the end of their efforts the hunting patrol returned with new catches.

The pile of viable bedding-feathers had grown quite large, and she offered to take it to the elders.

"That's very nice of you."

Dawnheart gave a start as she heard her mother's voice. She had been so absorbed in her own work that she hadn't realized Brightpetal was also one of the warriors who'd helped to bury the prey. She flicked her ears in acknowledgment but didn't respond, instead choosing to address everyone.

"I'll just take enough off the top, you all can have the rest for your own nests."

She wasn't sure how much Brightpetal had to do with all the decisions regarding the Moon Tunnels. As the mother of the two cats in question, the mate of the deputy, and kin to the leader, she would certainly have a voice.

How exactly Brightpetal was related to Spottedstar, Dawnheart didn't know, but there was some blood connection there; she'd just never really cared enough for family lines to bother with it.

Regardless, she didn't think she was quite on speaking terms with her mother, who adamantly acted like nothing had happened and treated her in a typical mom way. That seemed to be a family thing, actually, avoiding problems and never talking about them. It was one of her own flaws, the fatal one that had stopped her from properly apologizing to Stonefall the night of the gathering, but she pushed that regret away the same way she pushed all of her unpleasant thoughts into the corners of her mind.

With a mouth full of feathers, tongue carefully placed so that she didn't get any stuck in her throat, Dawnheart entered the elders' den.

"Well, what do you know?"

A friendly, croaking voice sounded from the back of the den.

"Dawnpaw's finally come and visted! A miracle!" chimed in the other elder, equal parts wry and cheerful.

They knew her faux —was it faux, or would she carry it forever?— name; everyone did, but she hadn't come to visit them ever since she had become Dawnheart, and she got the feeling that they wouldn't let her forget that any time soon.

She deposited the feathers. "I've been a little preoccupied."

"Of course." The first elder who had spoken, Sprucenose, shook her silver-dappled head with a sigh. "It's a pity they didn't let you go."

Dawnheart was torn between _thank StarClan someone actually agrees with me_ and _could we please not talk about this?_ Out of respect of the elders, a respect instilled by Brightpetal in both her children since their eyes had hardly opened, she remained silent, simply giving a hollow nod, and began to line the elder's nest with feathers. Sprucenose shifted and stood up so that Dawnheart could work freely, moving to stand by Graywhisker, an even older, dark gray tom.

"A true shame," he said.

She bit her lip and tried not to show any emotion.

Sprucenose saw it anyway. "Oh, Dawnheart, you know they did this because they value you. ThunderClan needs new blood. We can't just keep sending all of them to a journey that no cat has returned from for a long time, regardless of their skill. Look at Mintpaw..." Her voice trembled, and Dawnheart remembered that Sprucenose was the mother of the first ThunderClan apprentice to have never come back.

"And where does that leave Stonefall?" she asked.

"Stonefall was..." Seeing Sprucenose in her emotional state, Graywhisker laid his tail over the paler she-cat's shoulders and spoke carefully, as if calculating his words. "Stonefall was a compromise."

She forced herself to keep her claws sheathed; it wouldn't do to show them now, when she meant no disrespect to the elders, although unsheathing them would be a very good way of letting some of her feelings out.

"Spottedstar couldn't have not sent any of her cats," he continued. "So she chose Stonefall."

"It was Thrushfeather. Thrushfeather chose Stonefall." She willed the hurt in her voice not to show.

"Well, he was you two's main mentor, wasn't he?"

"He was."

"Then he would have known you the best."

Dawnheart tossed the last few feathers on Sprucenose's nest, a little more disordered than she should have, and moved to work on Graywhisker's.

"I know you're hurting," the silver she-cat meowed as she reclaimed her nest and settled back down. "The Moon Tunnels have been a rite of passage since the beginning of time, but times change. You need to adapt. You can either be the first in many cats to not go, and you can either accept it and life out the rest of your life, or hang onto it forever and never be content. I'm not telling you to do it right now— I don't _expect_ you to do it right now. But one day..."

"One day, maybe," the tabby responded hollowly. She was being spoken to as if she were someone who'd lost an important cat to death...

She _was_ grieving over the Moon Tunnels, she realized. Grieving over the chance to prove herself. Staying here, a too-old apprentice masquerading as a "warrior" with a faux name, was borderline shameful; it dug claws deep into her heart. This did not move her any closer towards acceptance, though.

"In any case, Sprucenose, I still fear us losing the tradition," said Graywhisker. He looked at Dawnheart. "The Moon Tunnels aren't just about gifts or getting StarClan's blessing."

Had Dawnheart not been very firmly raised to treat elders with the highest regard, she would have interrupted. _Isn't that... exactly what the tunnels are about?_

"It's about forging bonds," the old tom went on. "There's a reason all four Clans must work together, and why Perchstar... did what she did. The journey is almost impossible without the other cats beside you, and no one who's been there has forgotten that. The Clans have been at peace for so long..."

She felt a chill running down her spine, for reasons unbeknownst to her.

"...and if we lose the Moon Tunnels, we will fall apart."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Oh, no, kid, I'm not getting dragged into the deputyship again."

Bearclaw could have crumbled into pieces right then and there, but somehow he didn't, and managed to hold upself upright even as the world slipped away beneath his paws. He was pretty sure he was wearing a look between confusion and panic, _why_ and _what am I supposed to do?_ all at once.

"I shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place," Finchmask went on, curling his silver tail around himself, green eyes tired. "But Sandstripe was gone and Hawkstar wasn't even looking to name a new deputy, he was so lost... but you do remember. I've no need to go over the darkest times of WindClan again."

"Finchmask, WindClan will be in even _darker_ times than ever if you don't take the position. No one else wants to!" The striped brown tom felt like a kit all over again, pleading and desperate.

"Exactly! No one else wants to. That's the whole reason you're in this mess, Bearclaw, and I'm sorry, but I don't have the strength to help you— physically, maybe, but I'm more worn on the inside. Hawkstar would not have chosen you if he had any other options. His mind wasn't so addled that he didn't consider all the issues that would come with having an apprentice as deputy. There was no one else who'd take the job, not even older-but-still-functioning cats." His blue eyes suggested that something was being left unsaid, something Bearclaw suspected was uncomfortably close to _and there were some who would take it, but Hawkstar didn't like them._

Briefly, the brown tom fantasized about what would happen if _he'd_ said no to Hawkstar, as well. He was severely doubtful that Maplepool would ever be offered a chance at deputy. He had been the last hope, apparently and now he had no hopes left.

"And everyone will just let WindClan die?" He began to pace, lashing his tail. "It's not like I can _force_ a cat to be deputy. But for everyone to give up like this and throw the responsibility on someone else..." _It's disappointing. I thought we'd be better than this._

"Your best bet," Finchmask said thoughtfully, without answering Bearclaw's words directly, "would be to choose someone who bends more to authority. A bad deputy, but the only possible choices; all those who would be good for the job tend to be _spirited_ , so to speak."

 _How could I willingly choose someone not fit for the job, just because they'd be willing to do it with the right amount of pressure?_

 _How could I leave WindClan with no deputy at all?_

He was trapped.

If he'd wanted Finchmask to be deputy in the first place, he should be willing to trust the elder's judgement, and that meant listening to the advice he was being given.

"All right," he said heavily, defeated.

He couldn't blame Finchmask himself. The silver tom was old, far too old for the deputyship, but he had been the only one to take over after Sandstripe had died, and Hawkstar eventually made him deputy after continued persuasion from all of WindClan. He deserved to rest.

And Bearclaw himself couldn't rest.

"I'll choose someone younger, relatively," he meowed. "Not that we have any."

"Two and a half years. That's how old Hazelpaw would have been," Finchmask said, "if she had come back. The moon before that, no WindClan cats were sent. Before even that..." He trailed off, finishing his thoughts in his head, before finally saying, "the youngest cat next to you is older than three years."

Bearclaw sighed. "Who would that be?"

He shrugged. "Figure it out yourself."

"...Thank you," the striped cat said as he left the elder to his nap, padding away.

Camp was abuzz with nervous energy. Bearclaw half expected to be attacked, pummeled with questions, but no one approached him. It made him horribly aware that he was still just an apprentice in half the Clan's eyes. They wouldn't come to him, even if he was their leader now.

 _What did I get myself into?_ He hadn't expected this when he agreed to the deputyship. He'd expected time, maybe even training, at the very least a smidgen of a breather where he could pause to think about the future.

He had a thousand thoughts to organize and he couldn't focus on one.

 _Do I have my nine lives? I don't_ feel _any different._ But was it even supposed to feel different? The only cat who would know was Hawkstar, but it wasn't like he could ask him.

 _Darkstar_ flashed through his mind, but he didn't want to rely on ShadowClan more than he already was. Perchstar was certainly out of the question, and he found no excuse to ask Spottedstar.

No one really knew how the whole nine-lives thing worked. The leaders didn't speak of it, and they probably wouldn't tell him either. It was common knowledge that the lives were granted by StarClan, which meant you had to get StarClan's blessing in order to get your lives; after all, if you were worthy of surviving the journey to the Moon Tunnels and getting your full name, you would be a decent leader one day.

Even more pressing than the issue of a leader's lives, however, was StarClan's blessing in general. This he definitely didn't have; he'd never become a real warrior. What did the rest of WindClan think of this? How could he ask when he was supposed to be the leader, making decisions on his own?

 _Things are pretty bad,_ he thought. _If I was blessed by StarClan and my leader was the first cat to not be blessed by StarClan, I don't quite think I'd accept him._

Oh, why had Hawkstar made him deputy? Even if there was no other cat willing, he could have done as Finchmask suggested, and chosen any other acquiescent warrior. His mind must not have been clear when he made that choice; Bearclaw's probably hadn't been either. He realized that he _was_ one of the acquiescents, willing to listen to his leader and take responsibility.

Responsibility was a big part of his life, in general. _Maplepool. Mallowpaw. WindClan._

And Hawkstar played easily on that foible.

All right. There was no point moping over the past. He needed to get things sorted and figure the most time-sensitive problem out, so he could make an announcement to WindClan. _Youngest warrior, youngest warrior._

Finchmask wasn't helping, and he didn't want to ask any other warriors, for fear of their judgement. Mossfur? He needed his medicine cat to have faith in him. There was no one else—

Mallowpaw?

If he didn't know the ages of the other warriors, he didn't think the _younger_ cat would. Then again, maybe Mallowpaw had taken on that as a project of sorts, figuring out the ages of all of WindClan to occupy his mind during times he had to stay hidden when Maplepool was nearby.

It was worth a shot. He trusted the little sandy-gray tom to lift his spirits, at least, if not to have answers.

He made to find the apprentice, uncomfortably aware of eyes watching his every movement, when he was interrupted by a flash of white and pale gray. His brain registered the pelt color as Breezewing's before the colors came to a stop in front of him and revealed them to be, indeed, her.

"Bearclaw, I just heard the news," she said breathlessly, radiating concern.

With young warriors on the mind, Bearclaw studied her face. She seemed young, compared to the wearier senior warriors. _Breezewing. When did she go on her journey?_

"I just want you to know that you have my support," the white she-cat went on. "I know there will be others who don't agree with... this, but Hawkstar chose you for a reason, and I trust in both of you."

"Oh. ...Thank you," Bearclaw said, distracted, the gears in his mind turning. _She's definitely not old. Was she one of those who didn't want to be deputy? I put her as the leader of a patrol just this morning._ He paused, then decided to take the risk, meowing suggestively: "I'm not sure why he chose me to be deputy, honestly. Aren't there others much better for the job?"

"Hawkstar tends to let personal feelings choose for him," Breezewing answered cautiously. "He wouldn't consider cats he disliked."

She was confirming the little hint of suspicion he'd had during his conversation with Finchmask, but Bearclaw couldn't think of any cat worthy of dislike in WindClan... except Sandstripe, who was once Hawkstar's deputy, and was also dead.

"And he would choose someone like _me_ , not blessed by StarClan, not even thirteen moons, over someone like you if he didn't like you?" _Think, Bearclaw. Steer the conversation._

He'd struck his target.

"Yes." His Clanmate paused, then added, "He didn't like me."

 _Hawkstar?_ Bearclaw remained quiet, and she eventually continued, to fill in the silence.

"Hazelpaw and I had... history, let's just say that. And he was very protective of his daughter. She may have died at the Moon Tunnels, but he carried her grudge and let it live on in him." She suddenly looked very tired, blue eyes gazing into the distance at a memory Bearclaw could not see.

"Be my deputy," the striped tom blurted before he could second-guess himself. "I'm not Hawkstar," he said in a rush. "I like you. I need a deputy. I could even... even make you deputy, resign, and then you can be leader and no one will have to worry about anything."

She didn't speak for a moment, then tilted her head at him. "Sometimes I forget how young you are."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm used to carrying responsibilities." _More than you or anyone here knows._

"I'll be your deputy, Bearclaw, but not leader, not now." There was sympathy in her mew. "They've had some time to get used to the idea of you, but breaking tradition twice will only harm."

"I understand." He wondered if another "thank you" was in order.

Breezewing turned her face to the small clumps of warriors gathered aorund camp, taking amongst themselves. "You'll have to tell them."

Bearclaw felt himself shaking. He didn't know how to be a leader, how to make announcements; he certainly had no idea how to soothe WindClan when they were like this, essentially leaderless and lost. Some kind of inspiring speech? He wished he had Darkstar's nature, Spottedstar's experience, even Perchstar's conviction.

Should he jump right into it? Plan ahead? He didn't have much time.

 _Improvise,_ he told himself, smoothing his thick pelt. He padded at a rapid pace to the Tallrock. Movements and murmurs were abound as the WindClan cats correctly deduced his destination and moved to surround the great boulder, nesttled in the Meeting Hollow, watching him with flashing eyes.

 _Oh, no. Do I still begin with "all cats old enough to catch your own prey?" Everyone is already gathered. But that's the conventional call, so skipping it would mean that I'm emphasizing just how badly I'm breaking all the Clans' traditions._

"Let all cats old enough to catch your own prey gather to hear my words," he said, but his uncertainty showed in the quiet of his voice and the tremors near the end. He swallowed. _Make your voice louder. Project._

"Before anything else is addressed, let us pause to pay silent respects to Hawkstar before the vigil tonight." Bearclaw dipped his head briefly to Mossfur, who would be in charge of organizing the said vigil, and continued. "He spent nine long lives dedicated to WindClan, and for that, we thank him."

A moment of silence fell. Cats bowed their heads, expressions somber. Bearclaw tilted his head to the sky. _I will mourn you soon, Hawkstar,_ he vowed. _You were a good leader. But I need to focus on what to say next..._

"Hawkstar," he began, awakening the cats from their brief mourning, "did what he believed was best for the Clan. There were some decisions he had to make on his own, because the path of a leader is sometimes walked alone. One of these decisions was making me deputy. I cannot speak for him, but I believe we both thoughg there would be more time— time for me to settle into the deputyship and be mentored to follow in his pawsteps. But now, StarClan has called him to them..."

Bearclaw hesitated, hoping no one could see his trembling.

 _What do I say? How do I go about this?_

 _If I can't be leader, if I'm not strong enough... can I just be Bearclaw?_

He took the risky plunge into finishing his sentence, feeling like he was diving into the iciest of lakes as he spoke.

"...and right now," he said, drawing strength from within and increasing the volume of his voice, "I do not feel anywhere close to being a leader."

He had no time to wonder if that was a mistake as murmurs swept through the clearing. _I have to go on_. The brown-striped tom had expected backlash— angry yowls, taunting hisses, maybe. The quiet talking was better and worse at the same time.

 _It's almost like they expected this._

"Our leader chose not to consult you in the decision of the deputyship. I... I cannot do the same. I need to hear all of WindClan's voices."

Ears were pricking, tails were twitching. Bearclaw wished he could read minds, or at least read faces well.

"Here are the facts: I'm twelve moons old, barely a warrior, if that. I've never been to the Moon Tunnels, and I don't know if I've received nine lives. But I was also chosen by Hawkstar, and the warrior code states that a leader's word is law— and the deputy is the cat who becomes Clan leader."

He was trying not to sway them one way or the other, trying to simply lay every factor there was to consider out in the open.

It was easy; he didn't know which way he wanted their opinions to go.

"That being said, I need for everyone to vote. If you accept me as your leader, move to the left of the Meeting Hollow; if you don't, move to the right." Bearclaw relaxed a fraction, glad that he would get a reprieve from talking, but something poked his mind and he stiffened again. Quickly, he added, "That would be, er, my left and right, so the opposite for you."

Mallowpaw bounced immediately to Bearclaw's right.

A dark gray warrior muttered something in his ear, and he blinked with wide amber eyes, tearing up dust in his hurry to move to the other side, voting to keep their current deputy as leader. Bearclaw's whiskers twitched the slightest bit.

Breezewing was next to move with Mallowpaw to the left. She blinked blue eyes up at him, reminding him silently of their conversation.

Snowleap hesitated for several heartbeats before following her younger sister, white head ducked.

Dewflight was the first cat to move to the right. "Sorry, Bearclaw," she called, calico tail twitching, "but the fact that you don't feel like our leader means you can't be."

Haretail went after her. "Nothing against you, but a twelve-moon-old shouldn't _have_ to be leader." There was something close to pity in his brown gaze.

All eyes were trained on Finchmask as he padded slowly to the left, with no words of explanation. Seeing their former deputy's choice was enough to take two more warriors move to the left as well— Swallowsong and Honeypelt, the only two "young" cats as far as young went besides Breezewing.

Bearclaw's fur pricked with surprise. It was six to two in his favor, somehow, but the older cats remained undecided.

The remaining elders — _too many_ , Bearclaw thought, with a twinge of grief for the dying WindClan— moved to the right. There were three: Larkfall, Stormtalon, Heatherlight, and Quietfoot. WindClan had six elders in total, over half the amount of their eleven warriors, although some of the warriors were soon to join the retired cats. _The sixth... she's not here, of course._

The striped tom say Swallowsong's paws shifting towards the right. Honeypelt whispered something in the brown-swirled tom's ear, and he stilled, casting a doubtful glance at her.

Mossfur lifted her head, and the Clan watched their medicine cat with even more rapture than they watched Finchmask as they waited to see her choice.

"StarClan has not sent me any omens in the past six seasons, and that hasn't changed now. We must look to our own, living cats to guide us. I stand with Hawkstar's choice."

She moved to the left. Bearclaw expected some of the remaining cats to follow her, the way they had with WindClan's previous deputy, and he wasn't wrong. Two dark gray pelts with only slightly different markings —littermates Mistfur and Smokeberry— moved to the left.

Nine to six.

There were two senior warriors left, Thornstep and Pondflower. Bearclaw winced inwardly; they were the cats who had been mouselengths away from him at the Gathering, when Maplepool had left. _Do they know anything? Did they notice something? They couldn't have; they'd have done something earlier if they were suspicious._

Both padded to the right.

Nine to eight, with none in the middle.

"That's every cat—" Bearclaw started, but he froze as he saw a flash of dark, rusty fur from a den in WindClan's gorse wall. Slowly, confused, cats began following his gaze.

Out came a thick-furred she-cat from the elders' den, her dark fawn pelt matted and mangled, shoulders hunched— old, an elder, but not nearly old enough to be one by age. Bearclaw heard whispers and meows scattered throughout the gathered cats, but could do nothing more than stare at the clay-colored cat. His eyes traced the innumberable scars crossing her body.

"Featherwish," hissed low voices, whipping through WindClan like a current of air.

"It's _Featherwish!_ "

Bearclaw felt his head turn almost instinctively toward Mallowpaw, who was watching the she-cat with confusion scrawled all over his face.

"Who's Featherwish?" he asked, but no one answered.

There was more than one cat that Bearclaw had hidden Mallowpaw from.

 _How could I have forgotten? I was so relieved that he could be free when Maplepool left that it just slipped my mind... because I never visited the elders, so I wouldn't have to see her, so that maybe I_ could _forget completely. But then, I didn't expect her to come out in the open. I thought keeping Mallowpaw from doing that part of his apprentice tasks would be enough._

All the elders hurried to Featherwish, pressing pelts of silver and gold and gray and blue against her, but she shook them off with a growl, clouded green eyes glaring in no particular direction.

He began to shake again and wished he wasn't on the Tallrock— every cat coukd see him trembling if they looked, and he might fall...

"Featherwish?" Finchmask asked, crouching to look her in the eyes, but she didn't spare him a glance.

"I heard... everything," the fawn cat said, her voice rough, stilted between the words as if she had to work to string them together. "I... _know_ everything." She laughed, a dry harsh barking laugh that made Bearclaw want to tuck his tail and run into the nursery like he was a kitten all over again.

"You're voting," Stormtalon realized out loud, staring at her. He stepped back and signaled with his tail for the other elders to do the same.

Featherwish walked with kit-wobbly steps to the right. She stood there radiating fury, paws planted into the ground, stiff and bristling, swinging her scarred head up to glare at Bearclaw. He would have recoiled from the disgust in her gaze, but found that he was frozen in place and could not move, even though he was quaking all over, inside and outside.

"This cat will never be leader for as long as I live," she hissed, the pure malice in her tone making Bearclaw's heart lurch and jolt and break into pieces. "Tell me, Bearkit, did you take Hawkstar's last life too? It wouldn't be a first."

It was a mark of Featherwish's insanity that no cat twitched an ear at her accusation except Mallowpaw, who stared at her with an unreadable expression.

"Murder runs in your blood!" she screeched with her coarse-like-sand voice, so loudly that all the other Clans must have heard, so loudly that even the silent StarClan must have heard from high up in the sky though it was just a bit past sunhigh. No cat seemed to be paying any attention to the actual words she was saying except Bearclaw, whose heart pounded faster, beating a rhythm in his chest like a flighty bird encaged.

 _She's just being as crazy as usual. That's all. That's all, that's all, that's all,_ sang the rhythm of his heart.

"Featherwish, that's enough," Larkfall said firmly, unaffected by the outburst, trying to nudge the she-cat away with her blue muzzle. "You've voted."

But before the elder could lead the mad cat away, back to the den, Mallowpaw had weaved his way through the crowd, glaring at Featherwish.

Bearclaw was certain that his heart stopped right then and there and he was a StarClan spirit now, watching, helpless, horrified.

"Bearst— Bearclaw is brave and noble!" he shouted, amber eyes glinting, standing tall and bristling. "He wouldn't kill a fly! You can't talk to him like that!"

As Bearclaw drowned in a river of pure fear, his first, strangely idle thought was that he apreciated Mallowpaw not calling him Bear _star_.

Then there was chaos.

With a wild, ragged yowl that was a mad cat's rendition of a battle cry, Featherwish turned away from Larkfall and launched herself at Mallowpaw. Bearclaw could barely hear her words over the cries and paw-thumping movements of the other cats. "You— killer— Sandstripe—"

Bearclaw realized suddenly that he could move and was moving, free falling, having launched himself off the Tallrock without realizing it.

"Where's the _scars_ I gave you, Sandstripe?" Featherwish snarled, spittle flying from her mouth as she taunted the shellshocked apprentice with the worst of sing-song voices. "Shall I make them _all over again?_ "

Paws were pulling her back, struggling to get a grip on the thick, tattered fur without claws so as not to harm the clay-colored cat, although her own were unsheathed.

Everything seemed to happen at once, within the space of a heartbeat.

Mallowpaw froze.

Featherwish struck.

Bearclaw landed.

The next thing he saw was blood dripping from Mallowpaw's ear, his amber eyes round and wide. Then he saw a blur of fawn fur whip around, claws lashing out, and felt a stinging pain flash just below his eye. Reeling more from shock than injury, he staggered towards his charge as the rest of WindClan finally didn't hesitate to use their own claws to tug Featherwish away. Mallowpaw ran to him and pressed his face into the brown tom's chest. Bearclaw felt the wet and warmth of blood on his fur as he forced his breathing to slow for the apprentice's sake.

"It's okay," he said softly, because what else could he say?

Mossfur wound herself around the toms, blocking Bearclaw's view of Featherwish, or perhaps Featherwish's view of them. "I need to treat those. Come on." She tilted her head towards the medicine den. "It'll only take a moment, and that scratch may scar."

The fact that Featherwish had struck deep enough to leave a scar cut more painfully than the wound itself.

"I'm sorry," Mallowpaw whispered as they followed Mossfur. Bearclaw hurt all over again, this time for the little apprentice. He'd only been trying to do what he thought was right.

"Don't be." The striped tom touched his muzzle to the pale cat's uninjured ear. "I'm proud of you for standing up for what you believe in, instead of staying quiet." _StarClan knows we need a cat who does that, instead of a Clan almost compeltely full of I-don't-want-to-be-deputies._ "Next time, though, don't do it for me. Do it for yourself. Okay?"

"Okay." He seemed to straighten a little more, look a little happier, the light in his eyes returning to their normal bright starriness.

Bearclaw inhaled the scent of herbs as he entered the den and watched Mallowpaw as Mossfur dressed his ear.

 _He'll look even more like Sandstripe now._

But he couldn't look at this little apprentice and think _Sandstripe_ , not this one, the one cat who was nothing like WindClan's late deputy at all in everything except appearance.

Featherwish claimed many things about Sandstripe, but it was a fox that had given the many scars that Bearclaw remembered criss-crossing the beige tom's body. The same fox, the same run-in, had also given Featherwish her own scars. A simple border skirmish had dealt the nick to Sandstripe's ear, and now she had given a matching wound to his son.

 _If Featherwish's reaction to seeing Mallowpaw was like that..._

 _...what would Maplepool's be?_

 _Like mother, like daughter?_ But Featherwish was _insane_ and Maplepool wasn't, not really. Besides, Bearclaw was the mad she-cat's son, and he loved Mallowpaw enough to make up for both of their hatred— potential hatred, in Maplepool's case.

He'd taken her out to patrol by the gorge, that day, when Hawkstar had chosen her to go to the Moon Tunnels. And she hadn't flinched, hadn't reacted, acted like any other WindClan cat patrolling the gorge despite the memories and history swirling in its depths. Maybe she was really fine, maybe she wasn't as fragile as he feared...

He sighed as Mossfur smeared a poultice onto the cut below his left eye. It stung, but he barely noticed. Mallowpaw, meanwhile, was viewing his reflection in the medicine cat's puddle of water, a surprising mix of expressions on his face that included pride. _I hope I didn't encourage him._

"You're all set," Mossfur meowed, pasting a small swath of cobweb over the poultice.

The three cats exited the medicine den, and Bearclaw returned to his post on the Tallrock, wincing at the pain in his paws. He'd landed on all four feet, like any cat, but he'd hit the ground hard. _I shouldn't have done that, but Mallowpaw was in trouble and I just— I don't know._

The cats had been talking amongst themselves, but they broke apart and fell silent as they saw him. Featherwish was nowhere to be seen; a telltale trail of blood and scuff marks offered the story of a cat being dragged by force towards the elders' den.

"The votes are a tie—"

"No."

It was Haretail who interrupted, his brown eyes gleaming. "Featherwish's vote is nullified."

"What?" _She voted with you!_

"Both sides have decided it doesn't count," the brown-gray cat said, so authoritatively that Bearclaw was inclined to not argue and wondered why Haretail wasn't deputy. "It's nine votes to eight. You asked for our opinion, and here's how it turned out, Bear _star_." His voice was warm, with a hint of sorrow.

"Bearstar! Bearstar!" Mallowpaw yowled to the sky.

"Bearstar!"

"Bearstar!"

Slowly, WindClan called the name of their new leader. Even those who had voted against him said his name except Thornstep, who lift d his muzzle but did not speak, staring at Bearstar with something of a challenge in his unbroken gaze. The newly titled leader turned away from the dark ginger tom and waited for silence.

"Thank you." His mew quavered. "Breezewing, you will be my deputy." _I probably shouldn't ask for the spirit of Hawkstar to hear and approve of my choice._ The dappled white she-cat dipped her head as her name was cheered.

"That is not all," Bearstar said as the cheers died out, uncomfortably aware of Thornstep's lashing tail. _If you wanted to be deputy, Hawkstar would have chosen you before me!_ "As you know, RiverClan has threatened war over a crime that we did not commit. From what we saw last night, they —Perchstar most of all— are angry, and angry cats do not listen to reason."

 _Now my first decision as a leader. Oh, I pray I'm not making the wrong one._ "I will not be sending any cats into their territory to speak with them. Too small a patrol may be attacked; too large a patrol may seem like an attack. We will wait, and if they do anything to us, we will fight." He should say something motivational, something like _we are strong and we will win_ , but they _weren't_ strong. Ten ragtag warriors, plus him and Mallowpaw... it wasn't good, compared to the other Clans' ranks.

Should he tell them about ShadowClan's help?

He couldn't imagine that the reaction to _that_ would be very positive, although it was the reasonable thing to do. _Hopefully._

Bearstar dismissed the cats with the tail-sweeping gesture he'd seen Hawkstar do so many times; they disperse, talking amongst themselves. He padded down from the Tallrock the proper way this time, walking over to Breezewing.

"Tomorrow, could you increase the patrols at the RiverClan border?" he asked. If they were going to attack, it would be better to catch them before they reached camp.

Breezewing nodded. For a moment, neither of them said anything, before she meowed, "Why is RiverClan blaming us for the cats' disappearances? It's a groundless accusation."

 _Groundless indeed._ Bearstar didn't know, but hazarded a guess. "Perchstar is angry that she lost two cats from right under her nose and wants someone to blame, I think. We were the first to anger her at the Gathering— we're an easy target."

"So... there is no reason," the white she-cat murmured.

 _A bad reason, which is as good as nothing, so—_ "Yes."

Bearstar felt exhaustion crashing down on him. Sunset was only approaching, the end to this tumultuous day, and he still would be sitting vigil for Hawkstar, despite wanting nothing more than to sleep for a very long time.

"Everything will be okay," Breezewing told him before padding away.

 _I hope you're right._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

If Mallowpaw got to choose his first battle scar, it would preferably be something that made him look _tough_ and _scary_.

Perhaps it would be something running down the side of his face, a _hey I nearly got my eye clawed out but I DIDN'T, which means I am the TOUGHEST, no one can do any eye-clawing to me!_ Plus, the face was the first thing a cat saw, so he could scare cats with this imaginary battle scar and win half the battle before it started.

Or maybe it could be something less to scare cats with and more to spook them, because although being spooked was a form of being scared, it was less mean. Missing the tip of his tail, that would be a fun one. Although, come to think of it, that might be a little painful.

But an _ear nick?_ Cats could get ear nicks from brambles if they were clumsy enough! Well, clumsy and part of a forest Clan. In any case, almost every warrior had an ear nick or two, and Mallowpaw had really been expecting to build up his collection of them _after_ getting his first scar.

So that was a little disappointing, and all, but hey: he had _a_ battle scar, and as an apprentice, too! Most cats came back with their set of scars after their journey to the Moon Tunnels, and they'd get a few more over their lifetime from skirmishes with foxes or badgers (or brambles). Which meant he was really pretty cool, and tough, if not quite scary yet. He could work on that.

Mallowpaw had been thinking about those events surrounding his new ear nick a lot. It had been quite a few days ago —a week? Over a week? He was awful with time; all the days seemed to blend together like rain and earth, turning into just a big clump of mud with no beginning or end— but nothing of note had happened since then, and there were a _lot_ of thoughts he could have in one day, especially with nothing to occupy him.

Oh, he got to go on patrols all the time! Finally! That was some form of occupation, and it was great. Sleeping outside with everyone else; hunting whenever he pleased, unless he had apprentice tasks; generally not hiding; it was all wonderful. Unfortunately, there was a whole thing where, instead of him being hidden from others, others were hiding things from him.

Such as Featherwish.

Who he hadn't known existed until about that day (see, his thoughts kept rotating back there even after he was distracted by lovely things like border patrols), when Bearstar was officially voted leader and the crazy elder had emerged from the elders' den. Mallowpaw was not entirely sure what had spurred him to confront the dark fawn she-cat. One moment he was confused, the next angry on Bearstar's behalf, and then suddenly he was moving and talking.

Actually, correction: he'd been pretty much confused the whole way through, whether it was over something obvious like:

 _Who in the world is she?_ or

 _Why don't I know?_ or

 _Why is she insane? What made her insane?_

 _What gave her those scars?_

So, basically: _what's her story?_

And then there were questions more along the lines of:

 _How could anyone be so hateful? How could anyone talk to another cat that way —to a Clanmate, to_ Bearstar _— with such venom?_

 _How could any cat be so full of darkness?_

Mallowpaw got answers to approximately zero of the questions. Asking other cats only got him the response of "Bearstar will decide what to tell you" and the only information he received otherwise was that Featherwish had gotten her many scars from a fox, and had never been the same after her near-death experience. He suspected there was something missing, something no one was telling him, like maybe _hey she was actually evil all along_ , because there was no way that any one thing like that could turn a cat so incredibly insane.

He was quite honestly tempted to see Featherwish herself. Surely no cat was one hundred percent, completely evil. Maybe he could talk sense into her, if she was willing to listen. He could make her listen. Really. The apprentice felt incredibly guilty about shouting at her— there must have been a better way. He could fix that, he could apologize, he could show her the light and everything _good_ in him, prove that he wasn't Sandstripe.

Unfortunately, no one was letting him anywhere near the elders' den, Bearstar especially.

Mallowpaw _had_ tried to ask his best friend and coolest mentor about Featherwish like everyone else suggested. The conversation was not very helpful.

 _"Is Featherwish, uh, okay?" was the first thing he asked Bearstar, with no other idea on how to start the conversation. "Why didn't you ever tell me about her? You told me about Maplepool."_

 _The dark brown tom sighed heavily. "She and Sandstripe have... a long history. I know I say this a lot, but it's true— it's complicated."_

 _"Everything about Sandstripe is complicated, isn't it?"_

 _"I'm afraid so."_

 _"Why can't you just sit me down and tell me the whole story?"_

 _"Because some of it isn't my story to tell."_

 _"Maplepool's?" And because knowing the answer wouldn't make much difference, Mallowpaw added on a better question: "Can you tell me your part of the story?"_

 _"It's not so easy. My story is hers, too. You can't have one without the other."_

Eventually, Mallowpaw had been able to squeeze out the fact that Featherwish was Bearclaw's mother, which was a whole next level of concerning. How could any cat be so horrible to her own _son?_

To be fair, it wasn't like Mallowpaw knew any other mothers.

He was pretty sure they weren't supposed to be like that, though.

 _Allllll right._ The pale apprentice turned his head up to the dark night sky, glittering with stars and a waning moon. _It's the actual middle of the night, brain, so let's stop this tangent right here and go to sleep!_ Then he had to stifle a sudden burst of laughter, because really, as if that would work. He was pretty glad that there was a safe mouselength of space around him; he'd probablt wake up anyone who was too close.

 _Goodness. Come on. Let's go. Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep._ Mallowpaw repeated the word "sleep" in his mind so much it started to go fuzzy and sounded like "sheep," which was kind of odd but also cool. He'd seen sheep before, once, at the very edge of their territory where Twolegs lived. They were very fluffy, like clouds. _Sleep sheep._

He didn't really remember when he fell asleep, but apparently he had, since he suddenly felt that floaty feeling that came with a dream, the woah-I'm-not-really-standing-or-feeling-the-ground-under-my-paws feeling.

And also, everything was kind of whitish and misty.

And _also_ also, there was a bigger version of Mallowpaw padding right towards him. _Super weird dream alert._

"Mallowpaw," greeted Big Mallowpaw, and he realized that it wasn't really him at all, but—

"Sandstripe? Sandstripe!"

The larger beige tabby smiled at the smaller, dipping his head. "It's good to see you, son. You've certainly grown. How has your training been?"

Mallowpaw lifted his tail in delight, feeling warmth spread through him at his father's friendly words, excitement ricocheting through his head. _It's Sandstripe! My dad! He's here! He's looking at me! I knew everyone said we looked the same, but it's like I'm looking in a puddle, a time-traveling puddle because he's bigger, but really woah we look_ exactly _alike._ "It's great! Going great! I'm the best apprentice 'cause, you know, I'm the only apprentice!"

Sandstripe laughed heartily. Mallowpaw was about to go on and talk about how Bearstar was the _best_ mentor ever, but the older cat had started to talk again, leaning close to look at him with searching amber eyes.

"Is that an ear nick I see? I must say I didn't expect our similarities to go that step further so soon. I'm sure you have a great story behind that to tell."

Great? That was pretty relative. If by great he meant _dramatic,_ then oh yes absolutely, Mallowpaw could make that story very great. "I have _a_ story," he hedged. "But, er, that's not why you're here, is it? Since you didn't know about it until telling me? So why are you here, really?" Mallowpaw ducked his head, feeling uncharacterisically shy.

"Well, son—" (Being called _son_ seemed to patch over something that needed patching in the apprentice's heart) "—I came to visit, to see how you and WindClan are doing since my untimely departure."

"So StarClan hasn't left us? They're still visiting?" Mallowpaw asked, excited. "We all thought— well, maybe the past six seasons— I mean, we haven't heard from you at all, and you know the whole thing with the, uh, tunnels and things and..." He trailed off. His head was racing forward too fast for his mouth to catch up. One of Sandstripe's ears twitched.

"StarClan can no longer see the Clans clearly, and it is difficult to speak with the living," Sandstripe meowed. "I was chosen for the privilege, this time, so of course I came to you first! Mallowpaw, truly, I would love to be able to hear all about that scar and answer your questions, but I'm afraid I have limited time with you."

"Oh... that's all right," Mallowpaw told him, grinning. "Maybe one day, when it's easier for StarClan?"

"Maybe," Sandstripe hummed. "So, son, do tell me about WindClan."

"Well, gosh," the smaller cat said, "there's a lotta stuff that's happened since you died and honestly I'm not sure I remember all of it, since I was about two moons old when that happened, I think."

"Only the things you can remember, then. Who became deputy after me, for starters?"

"Finchmask," answered Mallowpaw, slightly confused. He added three more sentences, rapid-fire. "But you could've asked Hawkstar that. Since he'd be with you now. Right?"

"Ah! Oh, yes, I suppose so. I've been waiting for this conversation quite a long time, you know. I had all these questions planned out, and I'm afraid I didn't edit them to suit recent events."

Mallowpaw's paws tingled. _He's been waiting, planning. Excited to see me!_

"Let me try and answer all your questions before you ask them!" he suggested brightly, tail twitching in anticipation. "That'd save time, right?" And it would be a fun challenge! "All right, let's see. Finchmask retired, or maybe Hawkstar kicked him out, I'm not sure which, you can ask Hawkstar when you get back. Then Hawkstar made Bearclaw deputy—"

"He did _what?_ "

"Made Bearstar deputy." Mallowpaw faltered. "You... didn't know?"

"StarClan's sight is truly blurry," Sandstripe said briefly. "I'm afraid no one knows why. I'll spare you the details." With that, he returned to the previous topic. "But Bear— did you say _star?_ — should be on the journey to the Moon Tunnels!"

"I know, I know, but he's good! He's a good leader! And responsible, and wise! I don't know why Hawkstar did it, but it was a good idea, and WindClan is okay— we had a vote and everything!"

" _Leader?_ " Sandstripe looked well and truly horrified. "How have you come to this? The Clans' traditions... everything... was it so easily lost? How could anyone even dream of making an _apprentice_ leader? He hasn't received nine lives, or even the blessing of StarClan."

"But he—"

"This must stop right now, else we will be truly angry. StarClan did not abandon you. Nothing has changed; if a cat does not make it to the tunnels, that is because some obstacle was in their way that they were unable to overcome. Only worthy cats will make it, to be blessed and return as true warriors. That is how it has always been, and how it should always be. If you let your faith waver, bad things will happen indeed— a true curse upon your heads!"

"Butwhatarewesupposedtodo," Mallowpaw said in one breath, jumping into the small silence.

"Do what should have been done from the start." His voice was icy and now he didn't seem like a friendly father visiting his son, but a true cat of StarClan, giving an order from high above. "Bear _paw_ should be going to the Moon Tunnels. I understand the new tradition of giving them a faux name —I was alive for that, after all— but in spirit, he and the rest are no more than apprentices."

Mallowpaw didn't like that. He didn't like how that idea spun out into a world with no Bearstar (Bearclaw?) in it.

"Oust him. Send him away, or else."

"The other cats left ages ago! He can't make it there with just on his own." _He can't make it there with just that other ThunderClan cat who also stayed_ and _he can't make it there on his own_ , combined. If Mallowpaw could spare that other cat who'd also stayed behind— no cat should be sent away on a dangerous journey meant for _eight_!

"Well, that's your fault, isn't it? Hawkstar's fault? Should have sent him away in the first place. If he were a noble cat himself, he shouldn't have been so arrogant as to take the position of deputy. He should have left with his sister." Sandstripe's eyes narrowed. " _She_ left, right?"

"Maplepool? She left," Mallowpaw said absently, distracted by his thoughts, thoughts like _wait hold up, Maplepool hates Sandtsripe,_ why _does Maplepool hate Sandstripe_ and _I will NOT let this happen even if StarClan says it, I won't let Bearstar go away alone!_

"What if Bearstar just stopped being leader?" he asked, a little weakly. "And then he waited until there were more cats to go with him, or something. Like me. Or there might be more kits now, if I tell everyone that StarClan is still watching us, ish, and that nothing's changed, the Moon Tunnels aren't a death trap or anything," he blabbered, slightly desperate.

"Cats above twelve moons without StarClan's blessing are no longer Clan cats," Sandstripe said forcefully. "Thirteen, if the litter numbers are small and they must wait for next moon, but there are no eleven-moon-olds waiting to go, now are there? However, I suppose... if he were to become a rogue, he would no longer be a Clan cat, and his lack of a blessing would not negatively affect WindClan."

 _No longer a Clan cat!_ "You're telling me to chase him out," Mallowpaw realized. "I can't! I won't do it!"

"Not you, then. The whole of WindClan."

Mallowpaw's heart nearly stopped.

"I inderstand if you don't have it in your heart to do a thing against the one cat who raised you presumably by himself. Even though it was his idea to keep you hidden away and in captivity in the first place, so he did serve to make your life miserable, if you really think about it." Sandstripe went on before Mallowpaw could say anything. "But we'll see what the rest of your Clan thinks about this."

 _Oh, no. He's going to visit the rest of WindClan."_ We had a vote! They agreed!" _Half of them._

"But now they'll have my guidance."

"Please don't," he nearly begged.

The older, scarred tabby looked regretful. "I must, Mallowpaw. It's for the good of WindClan. Even if I wasn't angry, the others would be, and that only means terrible, terrible things for the living Clans."

"Sandstripe—"

"Don't be selfish, Mallowpaw."

And for once, Mallowpaw was silenced, heart pounding in his chest.

"I'll see you," Sandstripe meowed, slight affection slipping back into his voice as he nudged his son's shoulder with his muzzle. The StarClan cat then disappeared in a flash of white. The sandy-gray apprentice blinked twice at the suddenly empty dreamscape, feeling slighty odd and very worried, before the setting started to turn to black and he fell into true unconsciousness, a finally dreamless sleep.

He woke up feeling very cold.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, lighting up the sky, but almost all the other sleeping cats were stirring. They seemed as disconcerted as Mallowpaw felt, shuffling and looking down at the ground, casting swift glances at each other. The pale tabby felt a pit of dread opening up in his stomach. _They all had the dream._

 _But surely they wouldn't send Bearstar away! How could they?_

Slowly, hesitantly, murmurs started to sweep through the scattered cats as they bunched together into clusters like anxious berries on a scraggly bush. Mallowpaw craned his neck and stood on his toes, searching for Bearstar's dark brown pelt and seeing it next to the Tallrock. The thick-furred, striped tom was also awake, and he cast a sweeping glance across the hollow with a slightly bemused expression.

 _That's his confused face. Also mixed with his worried face, but I think that's more of a general worried face, not a worried-my-Clan-is-going-to-chase-me-out face. So Sandstripe didn't visit Bearstar, and Bearstar doesn't know._

He heard whispers about dreams and StarClan and Sandstripe but none of them fully registered because before he knew it, Mallowpaw was running to Bearstar.

"Uh, hey, good morning," the apprentice panted, bouncing back and forth left-right-left between his paws. "There's some stuffs a-happening, and I'm don't think it's good stuff, but proooobably nothing's gonna happen, nothing bad I mean, so. Worrying? Don't do the worry thing." _Not yet._

Mallowpaw spun in a circle several times, trying to keep an eye on every single WindClan cat, small details bouncing out as he noticed them. Breezewing looked as worried as Bearstar, if not more— Smokeberry's muzzle was moving at rapid speeds as he said something to Mistfur— the elders were emerging from their den, one-by-one, slowly.

Worst, Thornstep's neck arched like a dangerous snake's as the hint of glimmering white teeth showed between his half-growling lips. The dark ginger tom's half-growl quickly became an expression of malice as he exchanged words with Mossfur, whose expression Mallowpaw couldn't even read, somewhere confusing, torn between guilty relief and doubt.

"Mallowpaw." Bearstar was wearing his no-nonsense don't-pounce-around tone of voice. "Is there something I should know?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean no need to don't panic aaah—" He backed up, pressing against the dark brown tom in a valiant effort to both shield him and push him away from the advancing Thornstep.

There were lots of things going on in the small mass of cats, too many things for him to take it. Snowleap muttered something in Mossfur's ear.

Thornstep faced Bearstar, his dark ginger pelt bristling. Mallowpaw could feel the leader tensing behind him, fur prickling. The teo toms eyed each other with unconcealed emotions, one with anger and the other with a wary _what is the meaning of this?_ challenge and _I will hold my ground_ resolve. Neither of them paid nay heed to the apprentice between them, who was so small Thornstep's scornful gaze completely passed over him. He uttered a small hiss and felt Bearstar's tail flick his back in a warning.

Snowleap muttered something in Mossfur's ear and the latter moved to place a paw in front of Thornstep, drawing the cats away from the beginnings of their confrontation.

"Bear... _star_ ," the medicine cat said evenly, facing her leader. "Do you know what's going on?"

"I do not," Bearstar meowed, glancing at her but keeping his gaze mostly focused on the startlingly aggressive Thornstep. "Please, do explain."

Mossfur proceeded to explain everything —apparently Sandstripe _had_ visited everyone and told them exactly what StarClan thought of an of-age cat not going to the tunnels— in a ridiculously exceedingly calm way. Mallowpaw tuned out, trying to keep an eye on Thornstep in case anything bad happened and glancing up at Bearstar every two seconds or so. His mentor's face was unreadable, not because it was expressionless, but the he couldn't begin to decipher the expressions on it. What did it mean when his eyes rounded and narrowed at the same time? When he recoiled and grew stiff?

"—and Sandstripe chose Thornstep to lead WindClan—"

"He did a wait what?!" Mallowpaw yelped.

Mossfur eyed him strangely. "I assumed you received the same message."

"I did _not,_ " he responded.

"Sandstripe said—"

"I don't care what Sandstripe said! Why is Thornstep being awful?" the pale tom demanded. "Is everyone seriously considering chasing Bearstar out?"

"That would be Bear _claw_ ," Thornstep hissed through gritted teeth.

"It's Bearstar!" Mallowpaw insisted. "That's what weClan voted for!" _Not_ we, _since_ you _didn't vote, so WindClan, what WindClan voted for,_ his brain decided, a few seconds too late for his mouth.

The ginger tom snorted. "Look, kid. That vote was hardly accurate; it was a tie, or nearly a tie, and either way Haretail just gave up the win because he felt bad that this one has an insane mother." To Bearstar's credit, he looked unaffected, even if his eyes were telling a different story as he and Mallowpaw both glared at Thornstep with twin amber eyes.

" _Thornstep,_ " Mossfur warned. She turned to face Mallowpaw and Bearstar. "The vote was made in different circumstances, not that we have StarClan's guidance at last, the very thing we've been needing these past six seasons, who are we to deny it? The tradition must continue. Bearclaw must go to the Moon Tunnels."

If Mallowpaw could find a word to describe how he was feeling, it was simply _overwhelmed_. He felt sick to his stomach and blurry-eyed, head in a aching whirlwind and unable to focus or really fully absorb what he was hearing.

He took a few pawsteps away from Bearstar, staring out into a sea of cold, unsympathetic faces. "And everyone is okay with this?" the apprentice cried, beseeching.

They said things about dead cats and StarClan and blessings and destinies that were somehow connected but he didn't understand because how could this be happening? And all he knew was things about death and a dangerous eight-cat journey, all his optimism and wild dreams about surviving the travels on his own disappearing in a flash as cold reality set in: no one could survive that, he certainly couldn't, Bearstar couldn't— and was he just thinking in a frenzied line or was he talking out loud, and did it matter if they wouldn't listen to him anyway...?

"Shhh." Bearstar had padded up behind Mallowpaw at some time, and the older cat rested his muzzle on the smaller's forehead. "Mallowpaw, shhh. It's all right." The brief comfort of his touch disappeared as the leader lifted his head to address his Clan.

"If StarClan decrees it, it will be so. I will leave. For WindClan, to save them from any curse that might be in store, and to appease our ancestors. Perhaps, now that we have received communication, things will begin to look up."

 _No— why— how?_

"Perhaps," Mossfur echoed as the energy seemed to drain out of Bearstar. "Sandstripe did mention... there is another option that will not lead to death."

A vague memory— _if he were to become a rogue..._

"We could always exile you," Thornstep agreed grimly, looked slightly surprised and far less hostile. He'd evidently expected Bearstar to put up a fight. Why _wasn't_ Bearstar putting up a fight?

One of the twelve-moon-old's whiskers twitched. "Would it be really be exile if it's agreed to, Thornstar?"

What was this? Why were they talking like this, like this conversation was about the weather? What was going on?

"It would be enough," the dark ginger tom said. "If you are not part of the Clans, you don't need StarClan's blessing. Is it agreed, then, Bearclaw?"

"Well, exile is a bit of a cowardly option," Bearstar remarked dryly. He lifted his chin. "I choose to honor WindClan. I will face the journey to the Moon Tunnels with the determination befitting any Clan apprentice."

"That's valiant of you."

" _No!_ "

All heads turned to Mallowpaw, all the watching warriors and elders with nothing to contribute, along with the trio of adults close by. "Bearstar, don't! You'll die!" He felt it in his very bones, a dark abyss that was opening up inside him, horribly real.

"Bear _claw_ ," Bear— _claw?_ corrected gently. "Mallowpaw, weren't you just saying not too long ago that you wanted to go to the tunnels yourself? That you'd be the first to make it back alone?" There was an odd lightness to his tone and he reached out to nudge the apprentice with his muzzle. Mallowpaw ducked away.

 _I did, but that was then and this is now, seeing the possible future right in front of me, suddenly realizing that death is real and possible and_ "I _feel_ it, it feels like you'll die," he said out loud. "I won't let you! I'll force the whole Clan to make you stay, or else I'll—" he could see it was probanly hopeless, that WindClan valued the word of StarClan over the life of the very best warrior in all the world "—I'll follow you!"

Now Bearclaw looked truly alarmed. He paused for a few moments, thinking.

"Okay, Mallowpaw. I have a proposition for you. An exchange of requests, if you will. I will agree to exile if you _promise,_ on your _life_ and everything you care about, please, don't follow me. Stay in WindClan. Stay safe. You still have a bright future ahead."

"But so do you," Mallowpaw said plainitively. "And _you're_ the cat I care about the most of all."

"Mallowpaw. Yes or no?"

"No means I can follow you, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't let that happen either way... I just think it would be better for you to stay willingly than have to be held prisoner by your own Clan."

"That's not _fair!_ "

"Yes or no?"

 _If I say yes he'd live, but how could I stand by and not even_ try _to follow him, to fight tooth and claw to get to him? How could I live with that?_

 _But if I said no... he'd go to the Moon Tunnels, and I could fight and fight and fight, but there are so many warriors and one me and would I have a chance of making it past them? Would it be in time to find and catch up with Bearclaw?_

And, suddenly, Sandstripe's words rang in his ears: _don't be selfish._

 _Bearclaw being alive is the most important part. And if he's a rogue, he's still gonna be around, right? And I can see him again?_

"Yes," he said before he could change his mind, burying his muzzle in Bearclaw's shoulder and breathing in his scent, not wanting to go, never wanting to go, feeling wetness at the corners of his eyes, taking breaths in short jagged spurts. Bearclaw rested his tail on the apprentice's back, tracing it gently, the comforting strokes of a father or mother or sibling that Mallowpaw never had. He felt the stretch of Bearclaw's neck as the dark, striped tom inclined his head towards Thornstep. Or was it Thornstar?

"Exile, then. A few moments, if I may, Thornstar?"

Mallowpaw didn't see, but Thornstep must have nodded, because Bearclaw went on.

"Breezewing."

Soft footfalls as the dappled white she-cat came closer.

"Bearclaw?"

"Thank you. For everything. And..." he trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinshed, maybe saying something with his eyes or face.

"I will," Breezewing said softly, confirming the _maybe._ "I'm sorry that it had to be like this. I didn't want— but StarClan—"

"No, stop. I understand."

The exchange passed entirely over Mallowpaw's head as he stifled his tears and tried to breathe, unable to pull away from Bearclaw.

A pause, then Thornstep spoke: "Bearclaw of WindClan, you are now stripped of your status. No longer are you the faux leader, nor are you a warrior— from here on, you do not belong to the Clans. I say before StarClan: you are now a rogue, allegiance to none but youself."

The speech was succint, crisp and calculated. Mallowpaw felt Bearclaw's tongue rasp over his ears and at least he found the strength in him to move away, to look up at the kind-faced, warm tom with the scar below his eye. They looked at each other for painful heartbeats, neither quite finding words to say, until Bearclaw dipped his head and spoke quietly, so that only the sandy-gray cat could hear.

"Be brave and good and exactly who you are, because you are wonderful, Mallowpaw. I love you."

"I love you too," the apprentice murmured softly. "You're like family, Bearclaw. How could I let you go like this?"

"You must. _We_ must. WindClan will care for you as well as I have, if not better."

Small breaths, then deeper breaths. _I made a promise for his life._ He forced his paws to stay rooted to the ground as the brown tom said good-bye and he said a smaller good-bye and he watched his mentor, his best friend, turn away and leave, slowly at first but then breaking into a run as if he couldn't stay any longer.

 _Keep you promise keep your promise keep your promise,_ Mallowpaw told himself, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut but unable do it.

The sun had only just found its way fully into the sky, casting golden light over Bearclaw's departing figure.

Had it really happened that quickly? It was simply yesterday that everything had been okay...

And now— exile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Not moving was _irritatingly difficult._

It hadn't used to be a problem. Dawnkit received compliments from the medicine cat for being "incredibly well-behaved for her age," as he put it, when she'd gotten a thorn in her paw. Dawnpaw would, at Gatherings and ceremonies and other formalities, exceed even Brightpetal's standards at how pristine and unmovable she was; often, she was even compared to the marble stone that stood grandly in a corner of ThunderClan territory, never bending or breaking or weathering away.

Unfortunately, Dawn _heart_ found that staying still was no longer in her arsenal of skills.

She'd developed a bit of a habit for pacing— well, she preferred to call it _being on the move_. Hunting, patrolling, herb-gathering, even duties traditionally for apprentices... she was always doing _something_ so that maybe someone would notice how hard she was working, how _good she was_ , and send her to the tunnels. A pointless dream, but it wasn't like she had anything else to keep her moving forward except being the best she could be and hoping to get recognized. Honestly, at this point, she'd take an "I'm sorry, we _should_ have sent you to the Moon Tunnels" from _anyone_. If she caught the most prey, marked all the borders without tiring, gathered herbs the fastest, fixed dens until they were the cleanest, maybe somewhere, something would change...?

That was why the golden she-cat's claws kept twitching towards the stray scattered leaves behind Highrock, even as her ear was pressed to the cool, rough stone, trying to pick up the vibrations and rumbles that formed muffled words. The conversation was just beginning right now, with pleasantries from Spottedstar like "please sit down," but if Dawnheart so much _breathed,_ she might miss some important part of the exchange. If she tried to make the mess neater, not only with the rustling of the leaves distract her, they might give it away. If she could hear _them_ , they might be able to hear her, especially if one of the cats in there had a gift of super-hearing, or something.

Dawnheart squelched another wave of bitterness at the thought. If things were normal, if she went to the not-a-death-trap Moon Tunnels from the past, she was certain she'd have gotten a power gift (although she didn't quite need super-hearing; this wall of stone was no match for her naturally sharp ears).

There were several different categories of Moon Tunnels gifts; no one had officially categorized them, since things were supposedly ever-changing and new developments had always been a possibility, and there were plenty of different ways to categorize them. Roughly, though, there were five: tangible, magical, messages, powers— and she liked having a miscellaneous section to throw everything else in.

Tangible gifts were physical items, objects, useful (or pointless, if you asked Dawnheart) things. The herb garden was ThunderClan's most famous and most useful; some cat from long ago had returned with bundles of moss speckled with seeds. When the seeds were cultivated, they eventually grew into the lush collection of plants that existed today, more potent than the ancient varieties and more resilient to weather conditions or poor soil quality. The Board Game was another— _Stonefall loved that_ , the she-cat recalled, although she'd found it a little useless herself, compared to the grandeur of other gifts. Rocks of various uses were also common tangible gifts, like the sharpening stone that brought dull claws back to tip-top shape.

Magical gifts were tangible, but with a notable element of StarClan's touch to them; ThunderClan's marble, for example, that stayed cold forever and was perfect to help a cat cool down on a hot day. WindClan had a healing stone, as well-known as the herb garden, although Dawnheart wasn't sure entirely how it worked; the name was self-explanatory and implausible enough to put it in the "magic" category.

Messages were omens, prophecies, warnings, and the like that StarClan gave to pass on to the Clans. When an extended period of time went on with no apprentices, StarClan would communicate with the medicine cats instead, but they'd heard nothing from their ancestors during the six-season-long break in the flow of successful apprentices.

"A message from StarClan?" Spottedstar's voice was sharp, startling Dawnheart. She pressed closer to the den, trying to pick up the WindClan cats' voice.

They'd just trotted into ThunderClan's camp like they owned the place, that patrol of WindClan warriors. There were three. _Thornstep, Dewflight, Smokeberry,_ Dawnheart's brain rattled off.

She felt a tiny curl of guilt worming about her chest for eavesdropping, but she _had_ to.

When that first cat —Thornstep— had entered camp, he'd scanned the clearing with a scathing glare, and Dawnheart got caught in the crossfire. Instead of sweeping over, her, though, the dark ginger tom had stopped and stared with such burning disgust on his face that Dawnheart pretty much had no choice but to quickly finish up whatever she was doing and start plotting. As the ThunderClan leader ordered Thrushfeather and the WindClanners into her den for a more private place to talk, Dawnheart slipped behind it, intent on getting answers. She'd never interacted with Thornstep ( _senior warrior, grumpy looking,_ her head supplied). What was up with that look?

"From Sandstripe. Our late deputy, as you may recall."

Sandstripe. Dawnheart barely suppressed a snort. Everyone knew who Sandstripe was; every Clan told stories about his dramatic return from the Moon Tunnels, no gift to show, just a single word as answer for everyone's questions: " _Instructions."_

Which pretty much translated to "a power."

Powers were the rarest and arguably the most sought-after gift a cat could get from the Moon Tunnels. If StarClan found a cat they deemed to be of the right character: honorable enough, selfless enough, trustworthy enough, good enough to never abuse it, they would grant that cat a power to be used to better their Clan (or sometimes the Clans, all four of them). Most of the cats given powers ended up as leaders— Spottedstar was one of them, and Sandstripe had been well on his way before some tragedy regarding a fox. Cats gifted with powers rarely revealed what exactly their powers were before their deathbed, but the word of StarClan was as good as gold: a cat with a power was someone who could be entrusted with the lives of every single cat in the territories. There was simply no need to question it. Based on the nursery tales and history lessons Dawnheart had heard, powers could really be anything, from superstrength to the ability to sense pain to telekinesis.

Well, all right, probably not telekinesis, but still.

If she'd grown up during a _normal_ time where the Moon Tunnels were a coming-of-age event rather than a mysterious unknown (that she didn't get to even _try_ to conquer), maybe Dawnheart's one big hope would have been to get a power as a gift, insteas of just surviving the journey. Even in this situation, she'd still kind of went that one step further in her daydreams. After overcoming whatever it was that was stopping apprentices from getting to the Moon Tunnels, as her fantasies went, StarClan would be so impressed, they'd grant her a power.

So many dreams— all of them crushed to pieces. What had she done _wrong?_

"Oh, yes," Thrushfeather murmured, so softly Dawnheart had to really strain to hear, "I do recall."

Thrushfeather, she remembered, had been on the journey with Sandstripe. Briefly, she thought about how he must have felt to be a part of a journey that came back with a _power_ gift, when he wasn't the one who'd been given the power. Terrible, probably; that was how Dawnheart would have felt. Thrushfeather had it even worse, actually; he'd come back with a gift that Dawnheart thought fell quite surely in the _miscellaneous_ category.

She liked to reserve miscellaneous for the gifts that absolutely couldn't fit anywhere else. The most common example, and also Thrushfeather's gift, was a song. If times were good and the Clans didn't seem to need anything more, apprentices would often return with a song to recite and share with their Clan. RiverClan was famous for being the "musical Clan," although Dawnheart didn't find that to be something worth bragging about. She knew a few ThunderClan tunes herself, and she'd had her father's memorized for a long while, what with all the times he'd sung it to her and Stonefall, but she didn't think it was _useful._

What did Thrushfeather think of his gift?

The golden tabby decided she didn't particularly care, not when she was still angry at him.

Because it was him, Thrushfeather, her father, the deputy, who had been the one to both build up her dreams the most and send them crashing down.

"Please be succinct," Spottedstar meowed. "My warriors grow more restless by the moment."

Dawnheart wondered if Spottedstar's power was mind-reading.

"I moved you into my den so as not to worry them more, but the longer you spend in here, the antsier they will get."

"Very well," Thornstep said, not masking the unfriendliness that dripped off his voice. "In brief: Hawkstar died, and WindClan foolishly accepted Bearclaw as leader."

For a startling moment, Dawnheart felt so envious it took her breath away. The hints of envy had been there the whole time —after all, he'd been announced _deputy_ at the Gathering! His Clan had a good reason to keep him; he was about to be the next _leader!_ — but they resurfaced with a vengeance as the idea suddenly became horrible real. Leader. A _twelve-moon-old_ like her.

"That night," continued Thornstep's voice, "Sandstripe visited every WindClan cat. He was angry that Bearclaw was leader, and he warned of the terrible things that would come to us if we broke tradition. A curse upon all the Clans' heads, if we keep _apprentices_ like the one you have in the Clans! He named me the rightful leader, and my first action had to be to immediately go to you and pass on Sandstripe's words."

A long stretch of silence where the only thing Dawnheart could hear was her heart thumping in her chest. _What does that mean? Is there hope— is this a chance? Will they finally decide to send me away?_

"What did you do to Bearclaw?" Spottedstar hissed. "Surely you didn't send him to the tunnels on his own!"

"We did give him that option. He chose exile over it."

"If you think we would even _dream_ of exiling Dawnheart—" _Please do, I'm not like Bearclaw; I'd be_ delighted _to go to the tunnels, by myself or not!_ There'd even been some points in time when Dawnheart thought having a group would slow her down more than anything, especially if they were all like Stonefall (a traitorous notion that she pushed aside in favor of being a good sister to him). The Moon Tunnels were "made for a litter from every Clan," sure, but what difference did that make if Dawnheart had learned enough skills to make up for _all the Clans_?

"Oh, this isn't an idea that WindClan is sharing, Thrushfeather," Thornstep (Thornstar?) said with a pleasantly dangerous lilt to his voice. "It's a suggestion I'd highly recommend you follow."

"Spottedstar." Thrushfeather ignored Thornstar's threatening mew. "With all due respect, _I_ would highly recommend you don't doom one of ThunderClan's..." she strained to hear but couldn't catch a few words "... _warriors_ on the word of a dead WindClan deputy."

 _I can't believe this, but I think I'm on WindClan's side here._ Mostly because she wanted to go to the tunnels, had wanted to go every waking and sleeping moment of her life. She _could_ do it, make it to the Moon Tunnels on her _own_ , she thought stubbornly. The only time Dawnheart had failed at anything was when she'd done whatever she'd done to make ThunderClan decide that she wasn't good enough.

 _And if I can't, well, better to die trying like all the brave apprentices of the past than stay here like a dishonorable coward. I'm not a proper warrior. I can't be until I go to the Moon Tunnels._ Her thoughts closely echoed what Dewflight was currently saying— something about the tunnels being an important rite of passage for any Clan cat.

But also, you know, word of StarClan. The moment every cat had been holding their breath for for _ages_. Why was Spottedstar not _immediately sending her to the tunnels right now?_

"Times have changed, Dewflight. Did Sandstripe happen to offer any helpful thoughts on why no apprentices have come back for six seasons?"

"He said that everything is normal, except that StarClan is having trouble communicating with us and stuff," Smokeberry offered helpfully. "So if the apprentices don't come back, that just means they're not worthy enough to be warriors. Like it's always been."

"Somehow... doubt..." murmured Spottedstar, softly enough that some of her words went unheard by Dawnheart listening in.

"Is ThunderClan no longer listening to the word of StarClan? First you break tradition, and then you turn your backs on your ancestors?"

"Ances _tor_ , singular. And _your_ ancestor, not ours. Might I remind you that WindClan also broke tradition?"

"That was Hawkstar's decision, and it was before we knew. Before Sandstripe came to tell us the truth. After that, we did the right thing."

"And the right thing means sending a twelve-moon-old Clan cat out to fend for himself?"

"He's just a casualty from Hawkstar's mistake. If we had sent him off in the first place, we wouldn't have had to exile him."

Dawnheart would give... a _lot_ of things to be in Bearclaw's place right now. Did he even deserve the chance that fate had given him, when he'd turned down the opportunity to go to the Moon Tunnels? She tried but couldn't think of any world in which she'd say _no_ to an offer like that.

Well. Maybe he wasn't as skilled as she was; maybe he wasn't confident enough to think he could make it on his own. Which made it all the worse that it was him who'd gotten to leave, when it seemed like Spottedstar was _still_ going to refuse to let Dawnheart go.

"ThunderClan will do what it takes to survive," Spottedstar said firmly at last. "Should _we_ receive any message from our own ancestors, we may reconsider—"

"Sandstripe said it was difficult! It's incredibly unlikely that StarClan will ever speak to you—"

"And why _Sandstripe_ was chosen for something that involves all four Clans, I wonder," Thrushfeather mused. His words had no bite, but Dawnheart —having been mentored by him— could see his trick and was impressed despite herself. After Thornstar interrupted Spottedstar, the deputy had cleverly defended his leader's honor by doing the same, without addressing the problem directly, so as not to derail the discussion into a fight.

Thornstar continued to speak, but Spottedstar's voice rose over his, louder from the seasons of experience of being a leader who needed to be heard. " _Thank you_ for informing us of the matter, Thornstar," she said pointedly. "I believe we have nothing else to discuss." _No,_ Dawnheart thought. _Listen to them. Help me live up to my destiny._

"Is that so?" His voice was cutting. "You'll regret this. ThunderClan will get what's coming to it."

"From the alleged 'curse,' or from WindClan continuing to meddle in our affairs?" Thrushfeather asked.

"Well, let's think," Thornstar said, and his voice took up that pleasant sing-song tone again. "After this little visit, I was planning on heading to RiverClan, to ask for forgiveness. They were right, and we were wrong. I _would_ have included ThunderClan in the _we_ , but this first plan didn't go quite as I had expected. I doubt Perchstar will be happy with the only Clan left that's refusing to follow tradition. She accused _us_ of stealing away the apprentices and sending them to the tunnels. Unfoundedly. Simply because we were the first to displease her at the Gathering. If we make amends, there's only one Clan left to bear her wrath. Anything to say to that?"

 _Huh._ Dawnheart remembered the RiverClan patrol that had come to ThunderClan bearing news of their two missing cats. Why decide to blame WindClan? Unless they _really_ wanted that other cat to go —Maplepool, was it?— there was no reason for WindClan to send the cats away. _And why, in all the stars, is no one mentioning ShadowClan?_

"You—" Thrushfeather started, at the same time as Spottedstar saying "Your—". Dawnheart imagined an exchange of glances in the pause that followed before Thrushfeather added a quick "sorry."

"No, you go on," Spottedstar said.

"It wasn't that important."

"I'm sure my deputy's words are worth hearing." Another pause.

"You sound like Sandstripe when you talk like that," Thrushfeather meowed, evidently directed at Thornstar.

"Words worth hearing, all right," mocked Thornstar, sarcastic. "Spottedstar, if _you_ were going to say something about changing your mind, I'm all ears. Else, you were right; we have nothing else to discuss."

"Oh, I wasn't. I was merely going to say that your misconceptions of Perchstar's character are amusing."

"Is that so? You may have journeyed with her, Spottedstar, but it's been quite a while since then."

"And I'm quite sure I still know her. You've exhausted your welcome, Thornstar."

"I'll be seeing you around," Thornstar responded, the threat hanging clearly off the edge of his voice. Rustling and pawsteps— Dawnheart jerked away from the Highrock, her heart pounding, her head a whirlwind of thoughts. She heard Thrushfeather's mew and leaned back tentatively; the departing WindClan warriors wouldn't be leaving through the back, after all. She wanted to hear what the ThunderClan leader and deputy had to say now that their audience was gone.

"Thank you," Thrushfeather was saying.

"You've never told me wrong, Thrushfeather. If Stonefall..." Her voice faded at the most inconvenient of times. Dawnheart pressed up to the stone wall. "...then so be it. We will keep Dawnheart."

Bitter disappointment, round two. Another opportunity lost, by no fault of her own. She'd tried, at first, to stop resenting her father —to just focus on being the best "warrior" she could be— but her desire to go to Moon Tunnels never wavered, never died, always haunted her every pawstep. And then there were moments like this, when she was reminded about how it was _him_ who chose Stonefall over her.

She couldn't fault Stonefall, though. She'd had plenty of time to think about the whole situation, and she knew she'd have done the same in his place, said "yes" to being the one to go even though she knew her sibling wanted the journey as well. She squashed the remaining whispers of _but_ I'd _have a better reason to do it, I'm more likely to be successful_ and the irrational _he knew how much I cared about going, how could he?_ under a heavy weight of _he could be dead already, don't be a horrible sister like you were to him when he was still here._

"Besides," Spottedstar said, "I'd never exile one of our own who did nothing deserve it, and sending her to the Moon Tunnels is out of the question. No lone ThunderClan cat could survive the journey... think of the Death River, for instance."

Dawnheart flinched, feeling very much like she'd just heard something she really, _really_ wasn't supposed to hear. Cats who hadn't been to the Moon Tunnels were not supposed to know a thing about the actual content of the journey, and the "Death River" was almost certainly something to do with that. _This feels like sacrilege._ Listening to a private discussion was morally questionable; hearing _this_ was _bad._ But the damage was done.

"Of course." Thrushfeather's tone grew slightly dark. "I'm not the one who needs convincing. Dawnheart is important to me."

Dawnheart bit back a frustrated hiss. _If I'm so important, why don't you care about how_ I _feel at all?_

"But poor Bearclaw..." Dawnheart heard him shake himself. "Spottedstar, are you going to tell the Clan about this?"

"If StarClan has truly spoken—" Was that doubt in her voice? "—then my cats deserve to know. But..." She trailed off. "So you have any thoughts on the matter?"

"I share your feelings."

"Then you may be dismissed. I will come to a decision in due time."

 _Why hestitate? Are you afraid that our clanmates might not agree with you? That they'll say to send me to the tunnels, because it's StarClan's will? I'd be on their side._

Dawnheart whisked away from the Highrock as Thrushfeather made to leave, and she and quickly headed out from her suspicious position next to Spottedstar's den, stepping with light feet to keep from being heard, picking up her speed as she entered the ThunderClan forest.

When she was a safe distance away, the tabby unsheathed her claws and sunk them into the cool forest floor, twitching with frustration.

Her feelings, the wild desperation and hope and disappointment that coursed through her in alternating patterns as she listened to the exchange, confirmed it: she would never be able to let go of the Moon Tunnels for as long as she lived. She _had_ to find a way to go, no matter what. For Dawnheart, it was as necessary as breathing. She felt a determined frown taking shape on her face.

She had a few options.

First, hope that one, Spottedstar decided to tell ThunderClan; two, that ThunderClan reacted more like Dawnheart and WindClan than Thrushfeather and Spottedstar; three, that Spottedstar listened to them. That was too many "hopes" for her liking; she'd done enough hoping today, and it hadn't turned out at all like she'd wanted.

Second, head off to the Moon Tunnels on her own.

The idea had been running around her head for a while now: what if she just dropped everything and ran away to the Moon Tunnels of her own accord? There'd been a few things standing in her way. The fact that none of her Clan would know where she went, and if they did, they'd call her a fool. And there was still that small niggling feeling of doubt, one she'd ignored while listening in on the conversation because of how badly she wanted to go, but it had been amplified againafter Spottedstar had said what she did: _No lone ThunderClan cat could survive the journey._

And the _Death River_...?

Going alone was one of the least feasible options. Now that the panicked adrenaline of the _please let me go to the tunnels no matter what_ moment was over and she was thinking more clearly, she knew that was true, even if wishful thinking said otherwise. She was resigned to accepting that there was a chance of a lone journey not ending well. Dawnheart never failed because she knew not to take on a task that got her in over her head.

Oh, but she didn't _have_ to go alone _._

There was another. There was Bearclaw.

If he'd chosen exile because he didn't want to go to the Moon Tunnels alone, well, he wouldn't be, because now there was her. If it was some other reason...

...she was sure she could convince him otherwise.

 _Now's not the time yet,_ Dawnheart thought. She was close to solving all the problems that came with leaving for the tunnels, but ThunderClan needed to be aware that she had a good, reasonable, perfectly acceptable reason to leave: the word of StarClan, the threat of... fighting RiverClan and WindClan? That was what Thornstar had seemed to imply, but Spottedstar didn't seem to be concerned over it.

She felt inexplicably confident that she'd have her chance very soon— that, not too long from now, there would be an opportunity for her to "learn" about why WindClan had visited. Spottedstar would have to tell her Clan eventually, if a war was to break out over this.

 _It's just a waiting game now._


End file.
